


Wolves and Lambs

by Thai_Tea_Addict



Category: Gundam Wing, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Disturbing Themes, F/F, F/M, Family Reconstruction Act, Gen, M/M, Multi, Politics, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, War, Wizarding Politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 23:18:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 41,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13351587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thai_Tea_Addict/pseuds/Thai_Tea_Addict
Summary: On the cusp of war, Remus Lupin discovers he has a son. Facing a prejudiced wizarding world unwilling to believe Voldemort has returned, Remus must now navigate his duties as both a member of the Order and as a father to one Duo Maxwell.Duo doesn't know a lot about families, but he knows war.HP Fifth Year, Post-GW main series





	1. Begin Once More

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Mobile Suit Gundam Wing or Harry Potter.

  **Disclaimer** : I do not own Harry Potter or Mobile Suit Gundam Wing.

 

* * *

  **Chapter 1**

* * *

  _Begin Once More  
_

* * *

 

  **AC 196 March 3**

_Hemel Hempstead, Hertfordshire, England_

 

The conference room felt stifled, at contrast to the wide windows letting in warm sunlight from an otherwise chilly spring day. The room itself was simple and modern in design, following the aesthetic standards most new architecture took to before the dawning of the Eve Wars.

Une wondered for a moment, what insignia adorned the walls of this room during the war. From what she recalled, only a handful of OZ bases had been located near the British Isles. They’d been destroyed in the first wave of the war, at the hands of a recently-descended Gundam Heavyarms. As far as Une remembered, no battles had hit so far inland, so this small town would have remained damage free. Looking over the conference room now, Une thought perhaps Hemel Hempstead wasn’t the only one to survive the war untouched.

Fifty-four people occupied the conference rooms, an eclectic mix for this small town. Of course, no one was a native of Hemel Hempstead, not even the two nominally-British men. The conference table stretched the length of the room, 28 occupied seats surrounding it. Separated desks manned the walls, 24 in total, the majority of which were occupied as well. Une didn’t look but knew her Preventers were stationed in advantageous positions around the room, ready to intervene at the first sign the tension turned into something hostile.

ESUN President Noel sat at one end of the conference table, her normally gentle features pulled into an austere expression. Seated next to her was Vice Foreign Minister Darlian, the youngest individual in the room by far, but Une privately thought her eyes showed wisdom beyond many others present. Seated along the conference table, twelve on each side, were the reasons why conference was being undertaken in the first place.

Magic exists.

At first, Une had thought it absurd. Then baffling. Then, after more and more evidence appeared before her eyes, Une was forced to adapt, and so she did; she did not survive the war to die from shock because the Secretary of the British Isles admitted to the existence of a mysterious, seclusive minority.

British Secretary Samuel Reid had explained as best he could to the head of Preventers what he knew of the Earth Sphere’s magical communities. What Preventers had learned had led to a secret but intense investigation across the global sphere, meeting with ESUN representatives to discover who among them knew of these magical communities. They’d narrowed it down to 24 representatives from what had been formerly autonomous nations before national borders had been dissolved during the Eve Wars.

According to these representatives, only the topmost official of the ‘nation’ was informed of the existence of these magical communities. Magic users operated under an international code of secrecy, wherein they did not interact with their non-magic counterparts. Most of the representatives did not even have a way to contact their magical peers, aside from a select handful. In order to even hold this conference, Une had to have the Mongolian Secretary contact her magical counterpart to arrange a meeting.

The magical contingent were introduced as the International Confederation of Wizards, the only global intergovernmental organization these magical communities had outside of sports and special interests. Just getting them to agree to a meeting had been its own hurdle; they continually tried to snub their non-magical peers, clearly wanting no part in politics involving them. Considering what happened when seclusive, autonomous groups gained power and weren’t held accountable on a galactic scale, Une had _forced_ the issue: come to the meeting or have your laws decided _for_ you. Then she’d sent them stills of their magical landmarks.

Vice Foreign Minister Darlian had not been amused by the tactic, and ESUN President Noel had shaken her head with a sigh. Both politely pretended not to know about it, however, as the ICW agreed to a conference with their non-magical counterparts.

The consistent and repetitive message given from all 24 magical representatives for the last couple hours: wizards will not interfere with muggles, and vice versa.

‘Muggles’ meant those who could not use magic. The compiled reports of the Preventers agency had been force-fed to the present ESUN representatives, which covered wizarding vernacular and laws. Squibs and Muggleborns had contributed the most knowledge to these documents; instead of falling under the surveillance of their wizarding peers, they’d entered the Muggle community. And, more importantly – they’d entered the war. Loyalty was decided by who you would fight for, and they’d fought in the _Muggle_ war.

 “Wizards and witches are considered citizens of the Earth Sphere,” President Noel reiterated, as she had been doing since the start of the meeting. It was as if the magical contingent did not understand this very simple fact, their expressions always twisted into something vaguely contentious. “At the conclusion of the Eve Wars-“

“The _Muggle_ war,” the wizarding delegate of Transylvania interjected dourly.

“Representative Constantin,” Supreme Mugwump Dumbledore – _Magic users had the most ridiculous titles,_ Une thought. – chastised mildly.

“Autonomous nations no longer exist on the Earth Sphere,” President Noel forged on. “There are no national borders, nor citizens of individual sovereign nations. Those of the Earth Sphere share one citizenship.”

“A fascinating but definitively Muggle decision,” the American wizarding delegate replied. “Wizards had no role in the Eve Wars, and were not part of the decision to dissolve national borders. As tradition, magical communities remain separate from the non-magical realm.”

They’d been going in circles for hours now. Perhaps the previous heads of Earth Sphere nations had taken one look at the gaudy robes the wizarding folk so favored and washed their hands of the whole affair, recognizing a headache when they saw one.

“Our communities will have no effect on Muggle lives nor interfere in Muggle politics,” the French delegate spoke up. “And we would appreciate the same courtesy.”

“Surely you jest, Representative Beaumont,” French Secretary Marseille responded, voice dry. He was the second youngest politician in the room, seated at the desk just behind his magic counterpart. “Or perhaps you forget your consistent utilization of memory erasure on ESUN citizens?”

“Memory charms are used only when necessary, to keep our communities hidden,” Beaumont snapped back, affronted.

“Decided by you, independent of due process!” Marseille retorted hotly. “You supersede the boundaries of citizenship and law, acting as judge and jury without input from the community you claim to not be part of!”

“Allowing Muggles who have witnessed magic to leave freely risks the health and well-being of all wizardingfolk,” the Bulgarian wizarding representative stated, his even tones cutting through the budding ferocity. “Memory charms are deemed a necessary evil.”

“As was explained to your predecessor,” Beaumont added, turning to glare back at Marseille.

Marseille matched the look. “President Laurent, _my predecessor_ ,” he intoned frostily. “Died in the, as you say, _Muggle_ war. If memory serves me correctly, his office exploded while he was in it.”

Beaumont gaped unseemly in reply.

“ _Enough_ ,” President Noel interrupted. “Secretary Marseille, Representative Beaumont.”

The ESUN Head turned to Une, who sat at the other end of the table and had been watching the proceedings with careful eyes, and then to Dumbledore. “As stated, this meeting is meant to build a relationship between the magical communities of the Earth Sphere and the rest of the world and colony communities.”

Dumbledore nodded. Strange title aside, Une found Dumbledore to be one of the more level-headed members present; he listened with equal parts diffidence and interest. He’d earned brownie points for being respectful to those non-magical present, as well as showing interest in their goals. 

“By ‘colony communities,’ are you perhaps referencing the star colonies?” Dumbledore asked.

President Noel nodded. “In accordance with galactic law, the magical communities of the Earth Sphere will be subject to the laws that govern relations between ESUN and the space colonies,” she explained.

“Wizards don’t go into space,” German Representative Heinrich said.

Another interesting point in the Preventers reports on magical communities. Their magic simply _didn’t work_ in space; somewhere during ascension from the Earth Sphere’s ozone, their abilities to cast magic dissipated until eventually stopping altogether. It had apparently caused quite a frenzy when mass emigration to space first began under a hundred years ago. Magical communities had at first forbidden their citizens from space travel, then heavily restricted it. Those who had lost their magic abilities while in space found it returned to them, usually weeks after their return to the Earth Sphere. As many wizards felt closely tied to their magic, a vast majority do not risk it and so wizards actually going into space dwindled to such low numbers that the space colonies were seen as only Muggle.

“Then there should be no issue agreeing to follow the terms of the agreement between ESUN and the space colonies,” President Noel said. “Copies should have already been provided to you prior to the meeting.” There was a general murmur of agreement. It was the first sign that this meeting was finally getting somewhere.

“It was very interesting, though I must admit many of the terms were unfamiliar,” Dumbledore stated.

Minister Darlian smiled in understanding. “Given that it governs the boundaries and locations in space and across the whole Earth Sphere, it can be hard to understand without a strong background in astronautics- I’m sorry, Muggle science fields,” she explained. “As your communities do not seem inclined to space travel, those laws will not be of much concern to you. The main concern are the rights of individual citizens, specifically those of the colonies and the non-magical Earth Sphere.”

“Your concerns about memory charms are not unfounded,” Dumbledore responded. “But this is a point we cannot negotiate on. History has taught wizards that Muggles do not always respond favorably to magic users. While I hope this will some day change, I’m afraid we cannot risk the well-being of our people at this time.”

“And we understand that,” President Noel replied, ignoring the scoffing of some of the wizarding contingent. “We also do hope to facilitate a change where your communities can become an open part of the greater world community, but we know that this change is not something to be taken suddenly or in haste. We intend to respect your communities’ needs for secrecy.”

“Then what is the purpose of this meeting?” the Swiss representative asked, rubbing his temples. “Considering you are familiar with wizarding aversion to space travel, magical compliance to galactic relations will not be an issue. The only interaction wizards will have with Muggles in the space colonies are those who come to Earth.”

“And you stated you understand the necessity of memory charms on Muggle witnesses,” the Australian representative reminded them mildly.

President Noel turned her attention to Une with a smile. “If you would, Madame Une,” she nodded.

Une stood, garnering the attention of all present. She’d been introduced at the beginning, of course, along with the Preventers organization. There was no magical equivalent to the Preventers organization but the wizards present managed to understand through several minutes of concentrated effort and explanation. For the most part, they had not seem enthused by the idea of a international, galactic peacekeeping force.

“Everyone is subjected to galactic law,” Une started, keeping to her clipped, professional tones that just dared any present to interrupt her. “At the conclusion of the war only two months ago, ESUN and the space colonies worked together to found the Preventers.

“The Preventers mission is to maintain peace among the Earth Sphere and space colonies.” Une paused, eyes moving from one magical delegate to the next. “The Eve Wars were devastating. I am not sure you quite understand the sheer magnitude.”

Dumbledore’s face was lined with the weary wisdom of age. “Magical communities were rarely affected, but even we understood the gist. The casualties were severe,” he responded gravely.

“One percent,” Une replied. “ _One percent_ of the entire galactic population died in the course of the Eve Wars. That is around _sixty million people_.” The magical communities, to their best estimate, totaled to only about one million people. Losing sixty times the entire wizarding population was a sharp wake-up call to their magical counterparts.

“We have moved into an era of peace, and we are committed to it,” Une continued. “With the creation of Preventers, we have established an organization whose very mission is to prevent conflicts from escalating and mediating efforts in the reconstruction, when needed.

“Two main tenants of the Preventers effort that may directly affect those of you in the magical communities, are those of possible incidents of terrorism and the Family Reconstruction Act.

“The Family Reconstruction Act is meant to reunite families broken apart by the war. It is _mandatory_ ,” Une impressed upon them. There were the starts of objections but they were stifled under a raised hand by Dumbledore. “You claim magical communities were not affected by the war, but there are magic users born to non-magic lines – Muggleborns, I believe you call them? And Muggles were most assuredly affected by the war.”

“What does the Family Reconstruction Act entail?” the Brazilian representative asked.

“Citizens submit to a DNA– a blood test, which is entered into a system to identify close familial matches,” Une replied. “Families are missing fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters, daughters and sons; the FRA seeks to remedy this situation. It is a major part of the reconstruction effort.”

“What happened to your stance against impugning individual rights?” the American representative asked. “Forcing blood tests on a populace…”

“You’ll get your blood back, in a sense,” the US Secretary responded blandly. “Which is more than can be said for those subjected to Memory Charms.”

Sensing possible derailment, Une forged on. “The second tenant is that of reporting possible terrorism,” she continued. “Preventers are meant to prevent escalation of conflict, but we cannot do that without cooperation from the greater community.”

“So we are to report _what_ exactly?” the Russian representative inquired.

“Possible terrorist activity, including those of organized crime,” Une answered. “We have received reports that magical communities will sometimes see the rise of magic users hostile to either or both Muggle and wizarding communities.”

“Dark Lords and Ladies,” Supreme Mugwump Dumbledore termed.

Une nodded. “These are generally precipitated by suspicious activities, such as the gathering of sympathetic followers or unsettling messages made directly to the public,” she explained. “Preventers also help in subduing such terrorists, aiding local forces to eliminate the threat.”

The Transylvanian delegate snorted. “What can Muggles do against wizards?” he demanded testily.

“For one, drop a space colony on you,” British Secretary Reid replied scathingly. “Which _almost happened_.”

Horror flashed over the faces of the magic users. Une made another mental note; the magic communities really were far removed from the non-magic ones. They’d have to rectify that, through education if nothing else.

“B-But Muggles _live_ on those! You’d be killing your own!” Beaumont cried out.

“Yes, we’re clearly quite good at that too,” the Japanese Secretary returned evenly.

“Muggles have developed their own methods of handling conflict, but we are now entering a stage of total pacifism,” Minister Darlian interrupted. “Preventers are the sole military force of ESUN, trained in advanced combat. They can be relied on.”

“Thank you, Minister Darlian,” Une nodded. “But this does bring me to a new point…”

Une glanced behind herself to the two Preventers agents standing nearby. Both men saw her look but only one moved forward, coming to her side to stand at attention. The male to her right side was a flax-haired young adult, lean in build. The one standing guard by the door was a male with his smooth red hair styled into a blunt-bang bob cut, having taken full advantage of Preventers lax rules regarding appearance which Une had to do just to get certain individuals under employment.

“This is Preventers Agent Papillon,” Une introduced. “He was born and raised in the space colonies. He arrived here only a few days ago, and this is his first time stepping foot on the Earth Sphere.” Finding these exact specifications to rule out any possible arguments had been difficult, but they were fortunate that Agent Papillon was assigned to this mission in the first place for his special skills.

“Agent Papillon, if you would,” Une ordered.

The flax-haired male relaxed from attention at her call. With cautious gait, a reflex from surviving an OZ attack, he raised his right arm, palm up. A breath later, a partly-translucent blue form bloomed in the palm of his hand, unfurling to reveal a blue Monarch butterfly. It fluttered up from his hand, revealing another shape blooming just underneath it.

Within seconds, more than half a dozen blue Monarch butterflies fluttered over the length of the conference table. Their translucent qualities diminished, gaining solid blue and black in color but emitting a soft blue glow.

“Impossible,” came the barely-audible murmur from one of the wizarding delegates.

“We call them Newtypes,” Une answered the unvoiced question. “The magical communities of the Earth Sphere are their closest equivalent. They display abilities that cannot be emulated by their, in your own terms, Muggle peers.”

She was greeted with dumbfound silence. This was news to the ESUN Secretaries as well, but it was only fair, as Minister Darlian had said: the Earth Sphere had wizards, the space colonies had Newtypes, and now they all knew it. 

“Preventers have found that Newtypes are capable of recognizing your communities’ magic,” Une continued on. Her Newtype Agents were capable of recognizing each other, and mentioned that Earth Sphere wizards bore similar auras. Stronger Newtypes had been the ones to identify magical landmarks, which was how Une had been able to blackmail the ICW into the meeting in the first place. “But it seems their magic manifests a bit differently from your own.”

Silence met this as well. If she wasn’t so set in her goal for this meeting, Une would have been highly amused she managed to strike an entire room of politicians silent.

“Some Newtypes are capable of highly-specialized skills, such as Agent Carmine,” Une indicated to the Preventers agent by the door. “He is able to heal at an abnormally fast rate. A paper cut is gone within seconds; a grievous laceration in minutes,” she explained. Only Agent Papillon would be showing his special skill today, though, because Une was not going to injure her own agent to further stun a room full gobsmacked politicians.

Even then, she was not going to elaborate in just how specialized her Newtype agents had developed their ‘magic’. Une severely doubted the room would remain quietly amazed if she revealed that Agent Papillon hadn’t just released a kaleidoscope of butterflies into the room, he’d actually sent a swarm of butterfly-shaped _magic wards_ that neutralized all other magic spells in their proximity.

“The space colonies have wizards,” Dumbledore said, voice full of wonder.

Une smiled, “Shall we discuss galactic relations now?”

 

* * *

**\- . . -**

**□**

**\- . . -**

**□**

**\- . . -**

**□**

**\- - .**

**□**

WFhYRw0KDQoNCg==

_Decoding…_

REVMVEENCg0KDQo=

_Decoding…_

Delta.

_Decoding…_

_Decoding…_

XXXG-04: I’ve read a fascinating book recently, about a family torn apart by a secret they cannot acknowledge. The way it’s written, you can’t tell if it’s a psychological drama or a horror novel. I believe you may find it interesting, MDUNCg0KDQo= _Decoding_ … 05. I’ve sent you a copy.

XXXG-05: Thank you.

XXXG-01:

_Decoding…_

XXXG-03: Daisies.

XXXG-01: Yes.

XXXG-05: [ _The flower symbolism associated with the daisy is purity, innocence, loyal love, beauty, patience and simplicity.]_

XXXG-04: They’re lovely!

**\- . . -**

**□**

**\- . . -**

**□**

**\- . . -**

**□**

**\- - .**

**□**

* * *

 

  **End Chapter 1**

* * *

  **A/N** : This was kind of a prologue, but it was necessary to set the stage. You will see the developments and results of this meeting as the story progresses. :) The ending part – I think you can figure out who is talking yourselves, lol.

_STORY NOTES:_

**Characters** :

-Please see the character tags to see who is part of the main cast. The OCs will be minor and background, so don’t worry about them.

**Main Pairings** :

\--Volleying between 1x2 or HarryxDuo.

\--The Gundam Pilots are _close_. Like, so close that it freaks out some people. But not actually 1x2x3x4x5.

\-- _Definite_ : 3x4, 6x9, RonHermione

**Timeline** :

-AC 195 = 1994 A.D./CE; AC 196 = 1995 A.D./CE

-GW Timeline: In order to fit into the story, Endless Waltz had to be dropped. ~~I’m sorry, Mariemaia~~. Presumably, someone slapped sense back into Wufei. Probably Sally, but it could have been Heero.

-HP Timeline: This chapter takes place in March 1995, so during the Triwizard Tournament. The main time period of the story takes place during the events of Harry’s fifth year at Hogwarts.

**AU elements** :

1) Newtypes. As far as I could glean from the Gundam Wiki, Gundam Wing was exempt from the Newtype/Innovators thing that occurred in some of the Gundam series. In Gundam canon, Newtypes are “the next step in human evolution.” In this story, they are the space colony equivalent of wizards. They have some very distinct differences from wizards, though, which you will see as the story progresses.

2) The International Confederation of Wizards (ICW) is HP canon, but I couldn’t find a lot of detail about them. Supreme Mugwump is the head, but I wasn’t sure what to call the others, so they were titled Representative or referred to as delegates. There are 24 member wizarding nations that are part of the ICW, and as stated in the HP Wiki, these nations don’t necessarily fall on the same national boundary lines as their non-magic counterparts. (As Transylvania doesn’t exist in the Muggle world, and in the present timeline, sovereign nations in the Earth Sphere don’t exist at all.)

**Populations** :

-The global population in 1995 was close to 6 billion. (Technically 5.7 but I’m not math savvy so I made it easy for myself lol)

According to the GW Wiki, after the construction of the space colonies, mass emigration ensued, so 90% of the human population emigrated to space. I simplified this again, so:

_Pre-Eve Wars_

-about 1 billion on Earth; about 5 billion in the colonies

-The GW space colonies follow the Stanford torus model colony, which houses anywhere between 10,000-140,000 people.

_General Estimates (people)_

Earth: 1 billion

L1 colony cluster: (21% of space colonists) about 1.05 billion

\--around 7500 colonies

L2 colony cluster: (18%) about 900 million

\--around 6500 colonies

L3 colony cluster: (20%) about 1 billion

\--around 7200 colonies

L4 colony cluster: (22%) about 1.1 billion

\--around 8000 colonies

L5 colony cluster: (19%) about 950 million

\--around 6800 colonies

_Casualties of the Eve Wars_

-around 60 million casualties (1% of the population)

\--majority of casualties were from the space colonies

_Wizarding World_

24 Member countries in the ICW; other communities are too small or remote to register

\--around 1 million magic users in the world

\--magical Britain population is about 10,000 people

The wizarding world accounts for only 0.01% of the Earth Sphere population.

* * *

Thank you for reading.

**_Please be kind and drop a comment/kudos. :)_ **

 


	2. Recall

**A/N** : Thank you~

* * *

  **Chapter 2**

* * *

  _Recall_

* * *

  **\- . . -**

**□**

**\- . . -**

**□**

**\- . . -**

**□**

**\- - .**

**□  
**

WFhYRw0KDQoNCg==

_Decoding…_

REVMVEENCg0KDQo=

_Decoding…_

Delta.

_Decoding…_

_Decoding…_

XXXG-03: [attachment linked] Circus schedule updated.

XXXG-01: Prague. Sustenance request.

XXXG-03: 01, request clarification needed.

XXXG-01: 196.1.18

XXXG-03: Yes, 01, I will make you soup.

XXXG-04: _Decoding..._ I’ll see you all there!

XXXG-05: Accepted.

**\- . . -**

**□**

**\- . . -**

**□**

**\- . . -**

**□**

**\- - .**

**□**

* * *

_AC 196 July 5_

 

The stale air of the cottage was pleasantly familiar as Remus stepped through the doorway. His home was a decrepit hovel, all things considered, but it was the only place Remus could afford to keep with his spotty employment record and minimal finances. It had to have been just over a month since he’d last returned to his home; he spent most of his time running missions or keeping Sirius from going through a meltdown while locked in Grimmauld Place.

Remus wanted to rest but knew he didn’t have much time for luxury. He should take care of the chores while he could, before Dumbledore called on him once more. _Perhaps I should just move into Grimmauld Place,_ Remus thought, draping his outer robes over the headrest of the couch. At least then he would be easily accessible to the rest of the Order, and Sirius would appreciate the company.

Remus picked up the mail scattered about the floor, from where it had been shoved in through his mail slot over the course of the month. It was never much, as only Muggle mail found its way to his abode – just the occasional flyer or neighborhood bulletin, as his utilities were all directly linked to his bank account. He maintained a Muggle bank account, as his Muggleborn mother had taught him prior to her death during the course of the First War with Voldemort. Hope Howell Lupin had held no delusions on how the wizarding world would treat her only child, and was adamant Remus have a back-up in the Muggle world in case of emergencies.

At the end of the First War, with all of his close friends either dead or imprisoned, Remus fell back on his mother’s contingency plans. Werewolves had never been treated well by the wizarding world, but after the war, it had practically become a persecution given their former alliance to the Dark Lord. Even Remus had not been spared and was forced to essentially dropped off the radar. He took up Muggle part-time jobs but it became difficult to maintain them with his lycanthropy forcing him to miss certain days. The Muggle world had also taken extreme steps in the fields of science, and many of the jobs were not on-world; Remus, a wizard through and through, could not imagine giving up his magic for even a moment, and so he was confined to the planet.

Remus was likely more aware of Muggle current events than his wizarding peers, but ever since his year of teaching at Hogwarts, he could admit he wasn’t as up to date as he would have been a decade ago. He knew about the tension and violence in the space colonies, had heard about the revolts that ended in bloodshed – but he’d been helping Sirius since learning about his innocence, concentrated more on aiding his ex-convict best friend than the Muggle state of affairs. Remus had essentially missed the Muggle war, catching up only when the Daily Prophet had made a passing mention that the Muggle war had officially ended.

First the war with Voldemort’s original rise, then the Muggle war, and now Voldemort had rose once more – perhaps they as a species just weren’t meant for peace.

Remus perused through the envelopes, wandlessly casting the junk mail into the bin. Just as he’d come to expect, the vast majority was nothing important – but then, just under a lime green flyer from the local supermarket, Remus’s hands fell atop the hard white stock of a catalog envelope.

Remus turned it over, staring in surprise at the official print and postage. He didn’t recognize the company name – _Preventers?_ – but that was definitely the official British postage reserved only for personal documentation stamped onto the cover. Granted, it was a bit different from a year ago; Remus had heard that the Muggle world governments had dissolved national borders, so technically, Remus wasn’t considered a British citizen, but an Earth Sphere citizen. Or something to that affect – how the magical governments worked out citizenship with their Muggle counterparts had never been quite clear.

Remus opened the envelope. He didn’t need to worry about Death Eater plots; they’d never resort to such Muggle correspondence, after all. And the text on the envelope was definitely made from a computer printer, which no elitist pureblood would come within a mile of if they could help it.

Remus pulled out a thin sheaf of papers, no more than five in total, and started to read.

 

_Subject: Family Reconstruction Act_

_Dear Mr. Remus J. Lupin,_

_This letter comes in regards to the Preventers-mandated Family Reconstruction Act (FRA). As explained across all national media at the founding of the Preventers Organization in AC 196 January, the FRA seeks to reconnect families separated over the course of the devastating Eve Wars._

_In order to accomplish this goal, the Preventers mandated all Earth Sphere and Space Colony citizens submit to DNA testing. The FRA was restricted to close familial matches: parents, siblings, and children. We hope, at the conclusion of this phase, to expand our efforts to include aunts, uncles, and grandparents._

_As a world and space community taking their first steps into a new time of peace, we know we must rely on each other to accomplish the goal of complete pacifism that we all yearn to reach. Reconnecting families is one of the first major steps in the right direction._

_If you have received this letter, then we are happy to inform you that a close familial relation has been found._

Remus’s eyes read that one line, over and over. It was as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped over his head, its icy chill seeping into the very fibers of his heart.

It simply wasn’t possible. His mother was long-dead; his father was a pureblood wizard, who had died just before Harry’s 8th birthday. Both were only children in their respective families, leaving Remus the sole Lupin.

Furthermore, where had the Muggle organization even gotten his- what? DNA? It took Remus a moment to place the term; something related to Muggle science, clearly used to identify family. From blood? Where had Muggle scientists gotten some of Remus’s blood?

Remus flipped to the next page. A majority of it was extremely small text, related to medical and legal jargon. What Preventers had deemed most important to the receiver of the letter was put in normal print size, practically jumping out from the page.

 

_Citizen #90X--------5L_

_Name: Remus John Lupin_

_D.O.B.: AC 161 March 10_

_Status: Adult_

_Location: Earth Sphere, British Isles, Yorkshire_

_Citizen #L28----------XD2_

_Name: Duo Maxwell_

_D.O.B.: Approximated AC 180_

_Status: Minor****_

_Location: L2-V08744_

_Reference:_

_* - A Dependent Minor_

_**** - An Emancipated Minor._

 

It took Remus another few moments, over his stammering heart, to recognize the location as one of the space colonies. His supposed family member lived in space?

 

_Paternity Test executed._

 

The papers slid from Remus’s hands. _Impossible, it’s impossible,_ Remus thought numbly. Paternity test? Paternity – he was someone’s father? _How-_ Remus’s thoughts cut off, stomach queasy and heart wrapped in a claw of fire. He felt dizzy, using the edge of the table to keep himself steady.

It wasn’t possible- When could he have possibly fathered a child? Remus thought back, near hysterics. When had he-? He wasn’t the ugliest of blokes, but the scars and his generally disheveled appearance wasn’t exactly a hit with women. Not to mention his own reticence when it came to intimate relationships, given his lycanthropy.

AC 180 – and why was it approximated? – so his… Remus hesitated over the word, settling on ‘family member’, his family member was only 16 years of age. Seventeen years ago, he’d been in the throes of the first war with Voldemort, there was no way-

Remus started, memory whipping to the forefront of his mind. Yes, it had been the first war, and yes, he’d been running missions for the Order – but he’d also been a 19 year old young man. With hormones.

Remus winced. He hadn’t been in any serious relationships, he definitely knew that much, but he’d had his fair share of intimate relations. Even then, he’d made sure to use protection, or the girl he’d slept with had their own share of Muggle or magical birth control.

…But there was one.

Remus desperately tried to recall more details about her. Her hair had been a shade or two darker than his, reddish in tint. She had had really pretty eyes, a shade he’d never found in the wizarding world – the closest to violet he’d ever seen in human eyes. She was a Muggle girl, pretty but not one to smile. Remus thought they’d met in a bar, somewhere along the way; he was set to leave the next day for a mission to Scotland, and she-

She’d been on her way to space.

_“Can’t give birth in space,”_ she’d remarked to him. _“Too many complications, I’d likely die. I’ll take something tomorrow before I leave.”_

Apparently pregnancies had been complicated by space travel back in those days, so many women died in the course of child birth. Birth control and Plan B pills were easily accessible to space colonists for that reason. Remus had had no reason to doubt the pretty brunette.

Remus took a few deep breaths to calm himself. He gathered the papers up from the floor, going back to the one he’d been on.

The chart following the ‘Paternity test’ label was a list of letters and numbers Remus could not hope to understand. All he knew was that he was represented by one column, and this ‘Duo Maxwell’ by the other. His eyes were drawn to the bottom of the chart, where a box clearly labelled ‘Interpretation’ converted the mass of Muggle science information into something coherent.

 

**_Interpretation_ ** _:_

_Probability of Paternity : 99.9998%_

_The alleged father is not excluded as the biological father of the tested individual. Based on the testing results obtained from analyzation of the DNA loci listed, the probability of paternity is 99.9998%._

 

There was more fine print after this, but Remus had understood the gist. The paternity was positive: Remus was the father of one Duo Mawell.

Remus forcefully controlled himself. There was more to read. He could have a meltdown later, when he had the full picture.

There was another page of fine print, and then on the last page, there were the contact details Remus had been searching for.

 

**_Notes for Recipient_ ** _:_

_Citizen #90X--------5L submission to the Family Reconstruction Act (FRA) was collected during a hospital visitation on AC 191 May 3._

_Citizen #L28----------XD2 submission to the Family Reconstruction Act (FRA) was collected during a hospital visitation on AC 196 January 7._

_If you believe these results are in error, please contact your Local Preventers branch._

_Preventers Branch C-10019X_

_York_

_Yorkshire, British Isles, Earth Sphere_

_Phone: +250-4400-1830_

_P.O. Box 23471_

 

Remus tried to recall his whereabouts five years ago. He’d been to Muggle hospitals a handful of times in his life, only when magical hospitals weren’t feasible or were likely to publicly report his lycanthropy. As most Muggle illnesses did not affect wizards, then it was likely he’d had a minor injury that he felt a Muggle doctor could take care of in lieu of risking detection by wizarding Healers. They sometimes took blood samples if they believed he was under the influence of something, but Remus hadn’t realized they’d actually kept the results and put it in their system.

Remus put the papers down on the table, staring into the air.

_I have a son._

* * *

**\- . . -**

**□**

**\- . . -**

**□**

**\- . . -**

**□**

**\- - .**

**□**

WFhYRw0KDQoNCg==

_Decoding…_

REVMVEENCg0KDQo=

_Decoding…_

Delta.

_Decoding…_

_Decoding…_

XXXG-05: Status update. Contact request – 01, 02, 03, 04.

XXXG-04: 05, status?

XXXG-05: Status all clear. _Decoding…_ Delta.

XXXG-04: 05, clarification request.

XXXG-05: Rendezvous required.

XXXG-04: Accepted.

**\- . . -**

**□**

**\- . . -**

**□**

**\- . . -**

**□**

**\- - .**

**□**

* * *

The dull glow of the gaudy paper lanterns hung in zig-zagging lies across the street was barely discernible through the sheer white curtains pulled closed over the motel room windows. There was a minimal thrum of crowd noise, barely audible through the walls but more reassuring than irritating. Crowds of people had the curious effect of calming him; it was easier to escape in a crowd of people than to dash across barren fields filled with only the sound of gunfire.

Duo Maxwell sat reclined on the lumpy motel bed, legs crossed as his eyes skimmed over the screen of his laptop. The TV was on, changed to a random channel that had first started as an infomercial but transitioned to daytime drama. Duo had not tuned in long enough to gauge the story, but occasionally one of the characters would burst into tears.

He wasn’t doing anything particularly engaging on the computer either. He’d been wandering about for most of the day, and had only recently returned to the motel room to unwind. He’d checked his email – spam for the most part – and toyed with the idea of playing some of the games he’d downloaded. There was also a miniscule alert icon in the corner that he was steadfastly ignoring.

Running and hiding was his thing, after all.

Another alert, this one different from the one he was pretending was not there, dinged into existence. Duo recognized this one: the L2 Preventer system had rung up his name.

It had been in the heat of the moment. The war had ended, the world and space colonies were turning over a new leaf, leaping headfirst into an age of pacifism; Duo would have agreed to just about anything at the time, if it meant peace would last.

So when Sally Po, quite possibly the only doctor Duo would ever trust, took some of his DNA to enter into the system in order to submit to the FRA, Duo was fine with it. He was an L2 orphan – even if he had had family, if the plague hadn’t killed them, if they’d somehow managed to survive the colony revolts – then the war definitely had to have killed them.

And it had been mandatory, as Une had so viscerally reminded them. Preventers agents would lead by example, which meant they would submit their DNA to the Preventers system and shut the hell up.

Still, Duo had thought it was fine. There had been war, now there was peace, and the other Pilots had done the same. It had to be fine.

There was peace.

There was peace, everywhere but in Duo.

So he ran, and he hid. He kept a lock on the L2 Preventers system, where his DNA had been submitted, just in case Preventers ever accessed it for any reason. The alert on his laptop let him know someone had.

The FRA was a complex system, combining the databases over the space colonies and Earth Sphere. That was a large amount of data that needed to be analyzed and interpreted, which had made the FRA a slow-going affair. It was why Preventers had broken it into phases, working more on identifying matches for minors. Duo, though considered an adult in all the ways it mattered, had still been identified as an Emancipated Minor to the system.

Duo had never expected a match.

The FRA had an automatic system, the information disseminated to separate but relevant branches. Once a match had been identified, the local branches of the identified citizens would be notified to compose the letters using the standard Preventers template, entering their own notes and interpretation.

If Duo bothered to return to the home address he had listed in the Preventers system – a one-bedroom apartment on L2-V08744 – then he’d soon receive an official letter explaining the findings. The reports he’d hacked into currently was all the information gathered laid bare before him sans professional interpretation, but Duo was not the average person.

He had a father.

In the relative quiet of a semi-decrepit motel in San Francisco, Duo Maxwell dissolved into hysterical laughter.

 

* * *

**\- . . -**

**□**

**\- . . -**

**□**

**\- . . -**

**□**

**\- - .**

**□**

WFhYRw0KDQoNCg==

_Decoding…_

REVMVEENCg0KDQo=

_Decoding…_

Delta.

_Decoding…_

_Decoding…_

XXXG-04: 02, status request. Delta.

XXXG-01: 02, take your time.

**\- . . -**

**□**

**\- . . -**

**□**

**\- . . -**

**□**

**\- - .**

**□**

* * *

  **End Chapter 2**

* * *

**A/N** : Duo's going through _a lot_...

Thank you for reading!

**_Please be kind and drop a kudos/comment. :)_ **


	3. Little Birds

**A/N** : Thank you!

**Disclaimer** : I do not own Harry Potter or Gundam Wing.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

* * *

_Little Birds_

* * *

-..-

-..-

-..-

-.

WFhYRw0KDQoNCg==

_Decoding…_

REVMVEENCg0KDQo=

_Decoding…_

Delta.

_Decoding…_

_Decoding…_

XXXG-04: 02, please respond.

-..-

-..-

-..-

-.

* * *

_AC 196 July 7_

Pulling at the stylized silver cuffs of his immaculately-woven silk robes, Draco Malfoy gave himself one final once-over in the mirror. His reflection in the ornate mirror of the Welcome room stared back at him, not a hair out of place.

The robes themselves had been carefully chosen under his mother's discerning eyes. They were a silvery-blue that tended to glimmer like water under direct light, made of a light material that rested nicely on his lean frame. Draco had been ecstatic to see he'd grown several centimeters since the end of his fourth year at school. He was more lean than stocky, but a true wizard didn't need brawn – just finesse with a wand. An overall aristocratic look, and if Draco angled his chin just right, he could even give off the illusion of looking down his nose at his inferiors if needed. It'd be a useful technique this afternoon.

Just little over a month ago, his father had told him that he'd agreed to have Draco take part in a very important political initiative. On a superficial level, it was a publicity stunt; at its core, it was a strategic political move to ensure the continuation of the preservation of magical culture.

_Newtypes_.

The word had fallen from Lucius Malfoy's lips with vague disdain. The Muggles that had fled from the planet decades ago had accomplished something most absurd: they'd bred magicfolk among the star islands. Granted, they were technically Muggleborns – but the idea that they could use magic in space while the greater wizarding community on Earth could not was ludicrous. There were large pockets of the pureblood community that believed this was some trick, but they could not figure out how the Muggles were doing it.

The star island Muggleborns – these 'Newtypes' – were a major point of contention among those in the know. As Newtypes did not fall under the jurisdiction of any magical nation, they were not subjected to their laws; most importantly, they were not subjected to the _Statute of Secrecy_. According to his father, the Newtypes were already involved in many layers of their Muggle counterparts' government and militia. Although they kept their magical abilities hidden, in comparison to the Earth wizarding communities, many more top members in the Muggle government were aware of Newtypes.

His father had mused, and Draco definitely agreed, that the set-up of the Newtypes community was likely what would happen if Muggleborns ever got into power in the wizarding world.

The worst part was that the Newtypes had the advantage in this galactic powerplay, and _they knew it_. Newtypes had identified wizarding communities before the magical nations had even realized Newtypes existed; Newtypes had used their Muggle governments to force a political meeting; Newtypes kept whatever strides they had made in development of magic outside of the planet secret.

This unexpected threat had sent the wizarding world scrambling. Deciding to tread carefully, they acquiesced to meetings with Newtypes whenever and where ever possible. In the scheme of power politics, the wizarding communities were already at a disadvantage, requiring any meetings to be on-planet as they would not be able to ascend to the star islands. The Newtypes had granted the concession but it hung in the atmosphere of every meeting: the idea that Earth wizards had not advanced enough to compete with Newtype abilities.

Desperate to quell any ideas of superiority and hoping to convince Newtypes to follow the traditional path of magical communities, wizards turned their attention to Newtype youth. Influencing the incoming generation in the right direction would work to wizardingkind's advantage, and so they proposed a sort of project that, as explained in official meetings, would "build bonds between the wizarding community and the Newtypes community through friendship."

Forty students from magical institutions and forty Newtype youths would come together to share their history and culture. They would meet several times over the course of a year, fostering an understanding and cooperation of each other that would last for the rest of their lives. This event was titled the 'Constellation Conference', in honor of the star islands these Newtypes hailed from.

Naturally, the best and brightest youths would be chosen from the wizarding communities. The British Ministry of Magic had requested and been granted four open spots for attendees, in order to properly represent Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Of course, Hogwarts had been slipping in terms of quality education with people like Albus Dumbledore as Headmaster, but his father had said that would be rectified this coming year.

Draco had been chosen as a representative of the British wizarding world, and he'd made sure to flaunt his newfound status to his friends. Most of the pureblood community was already in the know about Newtypes, although the Ministry had been careful to keep most information from being told to the masses. They'd let only the bare bones be published in the Daily Prophet: the star islands had wizards they called Newtypes. The public was mostly marveling over the idea that magic could be cast off-planet rather than seeking more information on the political maneuverings of Newtypes and the wizarding communities. It had been taken for granted that Newtypes would observe the Statute of Secrecy because they were magicfolk – so surely they were subjected to the same laws.

Draco was one of the few who knew that just wasn't the case. It didn't make much sense to him, honestly – why weren't Newtypes subjected to the same laws? They were wizards even if they were Muggleborns, so why could Newtypes get away with so much?

His mother had not been impressed by Draco's lack of clarity. _How would we enforce our laws on them?_ She'd asked.

Draco saw immediately what she meant. Their magic did not work in space – and where did most Newtypes live? _In the star colonies._

And so the wizarding communities would play nice, would agree to meetings and kickstarters, and say the right thing to encourage relations – all while planning how to get the situation back to their advantage. Draco would attend the Constellation Conference, would present himself as any refined pureblood wizard should, would rub elbows with his Newtype counterparts and influence them to the British magical community's advantage.

Draco straightened out his robes once more, then moved forward. The Welcome Room had been specifically designed for Floo arrivals, evident by the circular architecture and five fireplaces evenly spaced inside. There was a single large archway that faced into a wide, luxuriously decorated hallway.

The venue for the first ever Constellation Conference had been chosen by the Newtypes: Brussels. (The wizarding nation of Flanders had been ecstatic.) Draco didn't know the reasons for the choice and his father seemed to think it was Muggle-related, which had killed any curiosity Draco had about it. The venue itself had been set up by the wizarding communities, tastefully done in a theme of a star-laden night sky.

Draco followed the one path laid out in the corridor, entering the next room through a set of large doors that automatically opened as he approached. This room had an elegantly-curved ceiling that sloped into a charm that caused it to swirl with even more stars than the corridor. The constellations moved about on the walls, caricatures of their supposed tales that reacted to his presence mutely.

Draco's eyes were drawn to the odd assortment of individuals that stood just outside what he assumed to be the main conference room. Some were dressed in wizarding robes, special designation and designs that denoted their occupations: Aurors from different magical nations, each pinned with a badge that had them operating under the direction of the ICW. The others wore Muggle clothing that Draco thought denoted them as militiamen, strange metallic blocks holstered to their waists.

Several of the Muggle-clothed personnel were manning what looked to be two metallic archways, designed for only one person to pass through. There was a desk attached to each archway, where a single person sat and stared at something hidden behind the panes of the desk. A handful of people watched as Draco approached; those dressed in proper wizard robes smiled at him in encouragement but the others remained intimidatingly blank-faced.

"Are you here for the Constellation Conference?" a robed male asked him, eyes expectant.

Draco bit down on the impulse to snark back, instead mustering up a polite smile. "I am," he agreed diffidently. "I'm here on behalf of wizarding Britain."

A dark-skinned male in Muggle military clothes moved forward, holding what looked to be a square, metallic plate in his hand. Under Draco's bewildered eyes, the man moved his fingers over the face of the plate, lights and words coming to life under his hand.

_A Newtype?_ Draco wondered, glancing between the man and the object he held. Was this a new invention of Newtype magic?

"Your name?" came the curt prompt from the dark-skinned male.

Draco stamped down on a twitch at the rudeness. "Draco Lucius Malfoy," he answered, tone lightly condescending.

The other male's lips briefly twitched before he quickly resumed his stoic expression. He looked up after pushing something on his strange device, amber eyes locking onto Draco's light grey. "You're checked in," he began smoothly, lips quirked into a vaguely amused smile. " _Draco Lucius Malfoy_."

The robed wizard cast an admonishing look at his counterpart. "It's customary to give your full name upon request," he spoke in Draco's defense, noticeably rankled. "Not everyone is familiar with military codes of conduct, Agent Shimon."

"I didn't say anything about it," the dark-skinned man – Agent Shimon - said airily. "There's no need to be so sensitive, Auror Jacobs."

Jacobs opened his mouth, seemingly ready to argue the point, before stopping himself. Setting his shoulders, he turned back to Draco with his encouraging smile back in place. "Please go through the security screening," he said, motioning to the metal archways.

Draco eyed the contraptions, realizing they were another Newtype invention. "What…are they?" he asked warily.

"They detect anything that may be hostile," Shimon answered. "This includes weapons, charmed objects, and illusions."

One of the archway desk personnel grinned. "By the way, if you've charmed on make-up or the like, it will come right off under these," the woman said. "So, you know – be ready for that. And don't throw a tantrum when it happens."

"They're kids," another spoke up. "They can't help but be emotional."

" _Hormonal_ ," another muttered. "I thought that French witch was going to hex someone."

Jacobs waved Draco through. He cautiously moved forward, stepping under the archway and nearly jumping out of his own skin when it let off a sharp, brief screech. The woman manning the desk did not look up from her screen, but she waved him forward – so Draco assumed the noise was nothing incriminating. Not that he was holding anything incriminating; all he had was his wand, after all.

Moving under the second archway was much the same, but then he was stopped by another man wearing the Muggle uniform. Draco was handed a pamphlet, where the day's timetable was listed on hard stock.

**Constellation Conference**

_Friendship Under the Same Sun and Stars_

*1:00-1:30PM: Check-In and Refreshments

*1:30PM-2:00PM: Welcome

_-Speakers: Dorothy Catalonia and Johan Bertrand_

*2:00PM-3:45PM: Introduction to the Wizarding World

*4:00PM-5:30PM: Introduction to Newtypes and the Space Colonies

*5:45PM-7:30PM: Dinner

*7:30PM-8:00PM: Farewell

_-Speaker: Vice Foreign Minister Relena Darlian_

Draco only knew the name of the one of the three noted speakers; Johan Bertrand was from a Flemish pureblood line which specialized in the import-export business across the Continent. From what Draco recalled, Johan was the second-born son and currently a seventh year in Beauxbatons.

This gave Draco an idea of the approximate age of the attendees. He himself was among the youngest, a majority of the wizarding nations choosing to send sixth or seventh years to the Constellation Conference. The Newtypes likely thought the same, and Draco suspected this 'Dorothy Catalonia' was the Newtype-equivalent to seventh years.

_Come to think of it, is there a school for Newtypes?_ Draco wondered. His father hadn't known, and however Newtypes trained their children, they had yet to share that with their Earth-born counterparts.

Draco didn't recognize the Farewell Speaker's name at all, but the title meant it was some politician or another. He couldn't guess if they were a Newtype or a proper wizard, but he could probably figure that out once he saw them.

Entering the room after folding the pamphlet into one of his interior pockets, Draco's eyes moved about the large conference venue. It was a spacious room, as beautifully decorated as the corridor and entrance: a high ceiling enchanted to show a star-laden night sky, the soft glow of illumination lining the delicate arches ingrained into the walls, where a different star constellation swirled sedately. The atmosphere exuded magic and elegance, befitting to the tastes of the wizards who mingled inside.

There were supposed to be 80 attendees in total, and it seemed a vast majority had already arrived. They talked amongst each other, hovered around interspersed tables that held an assortment of beverages. It was an eclectic mix, to be sure: summer-styled wizarding robes worn by some, Muggle-style clothes worn by others. Draco scanned the crowd, trying to see if he recognized anyone.

Susan Bones was among the throng, sipping at a cup of some bright yellow drink. She seemed involved in a conversation between a witch with golden tattoos and a brunet male with an eyepatch. Roger Davies was also present, staring blankly as a Japanese wizard and a petite blond girl laughed over something said. Magical France had apparently sent over the Chastain twins; a pair of boys a year older than Draco, heirs to the Chastain fashion brand. They were conversing with a brunette, her hair pulled back into a braid that reached the mid-back of her Muggle attire.

"Hello there!"

Draco turned his attention away from where the majority of the attendees mingled, grey eyes alighting on the one who had spoken. A male smiled at him in greeting, his blonde hair a shade so light it was reminiscent of Malfoy coloring, eyes a vibrant shade of aquamarine. He was wearing Muggle clothes, some sort of white coat adorned with an unknown crest and a sweater beneath it. (It was a good thing the room had been charmed to keep the air cool, or the other youth would have melted in those clothes.) For a moment, Draco wondered spitefully if the other boy was part-Veela; there was no way Muggles had been able to produce someone so attractive.

"Good afternoon," Draco returned politely, pulling on his own professional smile. There was a gentleness to the Newtype male, which would be easy for Draco to exploit so long as he maintained appearances.

"It's a beautiful venue," the Newtype male observed, eyes skimming over the walls and ceilings. "I'm always so amazed at what wizards can do with their magic. There's an element of majesty to it."

Draco's smiled turned much more pleased. It was gratifying to know that, at the very least, these Newtypes could appreciate the finer arts of magic. "There are even more wonderous sights in wizarding Britain," Draco boasted, keeping his tone light as he held out a hand. "Draco Malfoy."

The Newtype male took his hand, giving him a firm shake. "Nice to meet you," he returned amiably. "My name is Syed Bukhari. I take it you're from Magical Britain?"

Draco nodded. "The Malfoy's are from the Sacred Twenty-Eight," he told Bukhari. "We're one of the most ancient and noble Houses."

Draco didn't think Bukhari really understood the importance of that but the boy looked thoughtful at the remark. "What is the Sacred Twenty-Eight?" Bukhari inquired after a moment, innocent curiosity in his tone.

"Magical bloodlines," Draco answered. _That maintain their purity_ , he kept internally. "We're descended from long lines of wizards."

Bukhari's smile never wavered. "Bloodlines must be very important there, then?" he asked. "To be considered 'sacred'…"

"Blood is blood."

Draco jolted at the unexpected interjection. Bukhari glanced over at the approaching pair: a girl with a sweeping mane of blond hair and forked eyebrows, and a brunet boy with scars marring his right cheek and left eye.

"Miss Catalonia," Bukhari greeted, smile widening ever so slightly. "It's wonderful to see you again!"

Catalonia's smile reminded Draco of the photographs he'd seen of his Aunt Bellatrix, from before the madness inherent in the Black bloodline truly took her. "Your cousin would say the same thing, and he would have more reason to lie about it," she retorted.

Bukhari chuckled lightly, then turned back to Draco. The Slytherin boy was just starting to realize that it was a bit… _eerie_ , how Bukhari's smile never faltered. "Malfoy, this lovely lady is Dorothy Catalonia. And… Colton Dumare, isn't it?" Bukhari looked at the dour-looking brunet boy for confirmation, which he received in the form of a short nod. "This here is Draco Malfoy. He's descended from one of the most ancient and noble bloodlines of Magical Britain."

Dorothy Catalonia's gaze fell on Draco and he was under no illusion that it was benign. The very air around the girl seemed charged, and her lilac-colored eyes were clearly sizing him up: from the tips of his silvery-blonde hair to the finely-tailored robes he wore. Bukhari was distressingly vague in his introduction of her; Draco had no way to gauge her status among the Newtypes, aside from the fact that she was a key speaker and apparently shared a perplexing relationship to Bukhari's cousin.

"A pleasure, Malfoy," Catalonia said, voice smooth. Pansy would have envied her composure, legitimate silk hiding daggers in her very tone. "We've heard a bit about wizarding bloodlines, haven't we, Colton?" she turned to the brunet.

"That Larsen witch wasted oxygen to explain it," Dumare replied scathingly. "Like we're supposed to be amazed by _in-breeding_."

Draco's hackles raised. "Excuse me?" he bit out.

"Really now," Bukhari intervened, tone mediating. "No one said anything about in-breeding. Historically, many royal lines practiced intermarriage."

Catalonia turned her smile on Draco. "Please forgive him, Malfoy," she began, motioning to Dumare. "He wasn't ever taught to play well with others."

"I was, but I must have had the lessons knocked out of me when the Alliance exploded my home," Dumare returned dryly.

Draco felt completely out of his depth; true, the Dumare boy was covered in scars – but his home was attacked? By what? What 'Alliance' was he referring to? Somehow, though, Draco knew it better not to admit this ignorance to the three present; the feeling of being stranded in shark-infested waters was dawning ever stronger in him.

"Our esteemed Vice Foreign Minister would want you to at least pretend you're enjoying this, Colton," Catalonia pointed out.

"I'll smile for the photo-op," was Dumare's bland response.

Bukhari laughed lowly.

"So Malfoy, have you met anyone else?" Catalonia asked. "I haven't met anyone from Magical Britain yet, aside from you."

Draco tore his glowering look off of Dumare. "Roger Davies and Susan Bones," he said, indicating to the other two British wizards in the room. "We attend the same school. And aside from those I already know from the wizarding communities, Bukhari is the first Newtype I've met."

"First impressions of Newtypes?" Catalonia asked, eyes keen.

His eyes skimmed the crowd once more, this time focusing on the Newtypes. Much like their wizarding counterparts, they were of various races and sizes, but there seemed to be something noticeably different about them when they stood in direct contrast to the wizards and witches they mingled between.

Perhaps in the number of those who seemed to bear some sort of wound? There was the boy with the eyepatch Susan Bones had been talking to, then Colton Dumare and his facial scars, but there was also a redheaded girl with a prosthetic arm, a brunet boy who walked about with prosthetic legs…

Pointing out various physical disfigurations was unlikely to earn him any brownie points with the current crowd though, so Draco decided to mention something else he'd noticed instead. "Braids are currently in fashion?" Draco observed. A fair amount of the Newtypes, both male and female, had their hair pulled back into a single braid tied with a single band. Draco wouldn't have even noticed, had a few of them not congregated together.

"You're half-right," Bukhari agreed in good humor. "A single braid is the current style for those from L2. A popular figure from their colony cluster wore his hair in a braid during the war."

_What war?_ Draco thought.

"Oh ho," Dumare sneered. "Do you know about it, Malfoy? The Eve Wars?"

Draco froze, unwilling to admit his ignorance but knowing he wouldn't be able to say anything if they pressed him about it. This was another example of the advantage Newtypes had over the wizarding world: they'd gathered as much intel as they could about the wizarding world, while wizards had next to nothing on Newtypes or the Muggle affairs in which they had been involved.

The three Newtypes were eyeing him, knowing without him saying anything that he had no idea about their so-called Eve Wars.

"No need to fret, Malfoy," Catalonia said, laying one pale hand on his arm in a consoling gesture that was anything but kind. "For you wizards, we'll operate on a learning curve."

There was blood in the water, and Draco became keenly aware that it was his.

* * *

_AC 196 July 11_

Adjusting the cuffs on his simple white button-up, Remus glanced uneasily about the Leeds Bradford International Airport once more. It was a bustling place, surprisingly busy given that most people tended to use spaceports nowadays.

Remus thought it was good fortune that Muggle fashion had not undergone any drastic changes. He couldn't wear the same things as back in his younger years – not that they fit – but simple khakis and a white button-up were enough to blend into the crowd. He'd shaved off what facial hair he'd grown and gave his hair a simple trim, so in Muggle attire, he looked like any other busybody, if a bit on the exhausted side.

He wondered if he looked like a father.

Heart hammering in his chest, Remus took another shaky sip from his bottled water. After he'd received the letter, he hadn't really known what to do. In order to arrange a meeting with his…family member, the Preventers had listed a 'website' – Remus thought that had something to do with those Muggle computers but he'd never been able to use one longer than 10 minutes before it started short-circuiting – to go to in order to contact his estranged family.

There had been the alternative of visiting his local Preventers branch but Remus was still trying to piece together what exactly Preventers was; so far, he'd gleaned they were some kind of international law enforcement agency but Remus still wasn't sure why they were in charge of the FRA. His plan to visit his local branch had been nipped in the bud when Preventers reached out to him first.

Remus had set up a Muggle telephone line for his home for whenever he had to take up a Muggle job. It was cheap to maintain (and honestly easier than Floo), and as long as he didn't use it for long conversations, there wasn't really an issue. So he'd picked up the call, honestly surprised at the austere voice on the other end identifying themselves as an employee of Preventers.

Duo Maxwell had contacted Preventers first, wanting to arrange a meeting with him. Preventers had forwarded the request, calling Remus at his publicly listed telephone number. That had been a nerve-wracking conversation, as Remus was viscerally reminded that Duo Maxwell didn't live on Earth. It was fortunate the youth had offered to meet Remus in his city of residence, because Remus honestly didn't know what he'd do if he had been requested to venture out into the space colonies while a wizarding war was brewing.

The Preventers had forwarded Remus to a civilian extension of the program, which handled meeting arrangements between identified members of the FRA. Remus knew he had been useless throughout the whole thing; the L2 native had apparently arranged his own lodgings and traveling, so the only thing Remus had to do was suggest what to do in his town. The civilian agency had not been impressed when Remus couldn't offer them even a handful of possible locations in their first conversation. He'd had to call them back the next day, after doing a runaround of his neighborhood and awkwardly meeting his Muggle community members.

This was how Remus cobbled together an itinerary that the FRA surveyors had approved and forwarded to Duo Maxwell. Remus had combed his bank accounts, both Muggle and magical, for this; he may live humbly but he'd saved quite a bit from his time as a Hogwarts professor. He wasn't rich, not by any stretch, but living a modest life and taking on the odds and ends of employment meant he wasn't living the life of a waif.

Remus planned to splurge a bit for this. The agency had informed him that Duo Maxwell planned to stay in Yorkshire until the 20th of July; that was nine whole days Remus had to spend with him. As an emancipated minor, Remus figured the youth must be able to support himself, and Remus was curious behind the reasons why.

What had happened to Duo's mother?

Remus wondered if he had any right to ask.

The board posted above the tunnel exit for new arrivals flashed, flight US7355 moving to the top. The small crowd clustered in disparate clumps perked with brimming energy at the change, and Remus himself was swept up into it. Heart hammering in his chest, he pulled out the small but adequate name sign he'd made.

The people came out in a trickle, luggage rolling behind them as they made their way through. Remus felt his gaze drawn to every teen that stepped through, fingers numbing as nervousness lapped through his veins. With every newcomer through the Arrivals exit, Remus thought he may experience a minor heart attack.

Remus wondered what his expression showed to those who passed him; they would glance from the sign he held to his face, knowing smiles gracing their lips as they continued forward. He wasn't dressed for business, after all, which narrowed down the possibilities to 'family reunion'. And wasn't that what this was?

Remus was here to pick up his son.

What was Duo Maxwell like? The FRA-given information Remus had read through had only the necessities and a standard profile picture; there was nothing about what Duo liked, or what he did in his free time, or where he'd been, what he'd seen, who he loved and how he laughed. If Remus had thought going years without seeing Harry had been horrible, going years without knowing even the smallest thing about Duo was _devastating_.

Fingers tightening around his sign, Remus forcefully steadied his breathing. There was no point having a panic attack when he hadn't even seen the boy yet. That would be a disastrous first meeting and Remus wanted to leave a good first impression.

"Goodness, dear," a kind voice interrupted his thoughts. Remus jolted, head swiveling to pin wide eyes on the elderly woman who stood next to him. She was smiling up at him despite his reaction, warmth in her eyes as she glanced from the name sign he held to his face. "You're going to crush it if you keep holding it like that," she pointed out.

Remus reflexively loosened his grip on the sign and it fluttered to the floor from his nerveless fingers. Cursing quietly under his breath at his own clumsiness, he darted down to pick it up, heat flaming over his cheeks. The woman only chuckled at his quickly dissipating composure.

"Waiting for someone special, I take it?" she guessed.

Remus nodded, holding the sign back up to face the arriving crowds. "M-My son," he stuttered out of a dry throat. "We- It's the first time. The FRA…" The words fled from his throat, the situation almost too overwhelming; he had a _son_ and his son _wanted to meet him_.

"Oh, the FRA!" the woman repeated, joy lighting her features. Some of the others standing by turned at the exclamation, smiles dawning over some of their faces. "Congratulations, dear! Oh, that is the best thing I've heard all day!"

"Congratulations!" a man called out from nearby. There was a smattering of repeats from those who loitered close, kind sentiments echoed by passers-by. Remus hadn't realized the FRA was so publicly recognized and was more surprised at the overwhelmingly positive response it garnered.

"How old is he?" the woman asked.

"S-Sixteen," Remus hazarded. Duo's age had been approximated, after all – another one of the endless questions Remus had about his own flesh and blood.

"Don't worry, dear," the woman said, resting her hand on his arm in a supportive gesture. "This will be one of the most important moments of your life, but I know – call it a mother's wisdom – that it will be your happiest too."

Remus blinked back tears he hadn't even known were forming. "I- Thank you," he said softly.

The woman gave him another encouraging smile. The Arrivals crowd began to swell in numbers as the bulk of passengers finally appeared, conversations loud in the air as people moved forward or were reunited. Some who had overheard Remus's circumstances gave him passing well-wishes as they left, and the kind old woman squeezed his hand in farewell before she left with a middle-aged couple who'd greeted her with smiles and hugs.

Gripping his sign and scanning over the flowing crowd, Remus felt he almost saw the difference in the air: the Muggle world was not tainted by the likes of Lord Voldemort. Here, now, they reveled in the peace they'd achieved after their own war; they celebrated with strangers, found hope in the family they'd never met, weren't afraid of that next step forward.

Always, always forward.

Remus glanced from one face to the next – and then he saw him.

Duo Maxwell took after his mother.

Remus was there maybe, in the gentle shape of the chin and the round quality of his eyes, but there was a beauty to Duo Maxwell that Remus could not believe he had given him. The clean arch of his eyebrows, the long eyelashes that framed the vivid violet eyes Remus remembered so well, and the lithe figure clothed in a priest's garb tucked into black combat boots; Duo Maxwell was viscerally beautiful.

It was as the boy moved forward that Remus saw the meter-long rope of hair sway from side to side behind his back. Duo Maxwell moved with an unmistakable grace. It was there in the posture, in the straight set of his shoulders and the easy way he ambled through the crowd without bumping into wayward bags. He did not move with the curse of lycanthropy hanging over his shoulders or with the concern of his blood status as a phantom on his back.

The boy's entire face lit up as he caught sight of Remus and his little name sign, purpose now leading his steps as he drew closer. And unlike Remus, whose lips quirked up in wry attempts at goodwill, or his nameless mother who'd been as tired as a war-torn werewolf – Duo Maxwell _smiled_.

It was one of the most beautiful things Remus had ever seen.

"Hey, I'm Duo Maxwell," the boy said as he approached. His voice was light and friendly, a perfect match to his smile. He held out one hand, the other holding a black duffel bag over his shoulder. Remus reached out to grasp it on reflex; the grip was strong, callouses lightly moving against Remus's own hand.

_An American accent_ , Remus noted dazedly; perhaps that was how they spoke in the L2 space colonies. Remus could not claim enough knowledge about the infamous 'star islands' few wizards dared to tread. "N-Nice to meet you," Remus managed out of a dry throat. "I'm Remus Lupin."

For his part, the youth just seemed amused. "I figured," he said, tone light and teasing. Remus could never have imagined any child of his being filled with such wonderful lightness. Cheer and good humor practically exuded from the boy.

Remus couldn't help but stare. "Yes, of course," fell from his dazed lips.

The wizard was unmoving for a long moment, frozen under Duo's violet eyes. The boy walked about with an ease Remus could not imagine, and the shock that had put a stopper on the more extreme of his emotions began to dissolve into the swelling tide.

Duo's lovely violet eyes widened at the sight of Remus's own amber eyes welling up with tears. "Uh-" Duo began, alarm coloring his tone.

Remus didn't let him finish, sweeping the startled teen into a hug. Fragile bones and the hard lines of muscle froze under his hold, but Remus could not register it under the pounding in his ears and the sheer joy blooming in his chest.

Duo Maxwell is his son, and he's _wonderful_.

* * *

_AC 196 July 13_

They say to truly understand a culture, look at their art.

Dorothy agreed, to an extent; art said a lot about a culture. It was a medium that said a lot about a culture in what was represented and what was not. People who'd spent their lives among the fresh mountain air drew with the strong vitality of the woods; people from the desert played with the colors of the unforgiving heat; people who dwelled among the sea of stars could often got lost in the dark. People could learn a lot from art, provided they knew how to appreciate it.

But Dorothy was not raised for art - she was bred for social influence, and politics were a complete _shitshow_.

Dorothy believed in the idea of pacifism, it was just the _getting_ _there_ that was a bit tricky. It'd been hard to wrap her head around the idea of pacifism earlier in her relationship to Relena Darlian; war was endless and miserable and she'd seen enough as a cog in her legacy's war machines to not believe in something so ideal as pacifism.

But that was the thing about the Eve Wars: that there, at the end with blood on everyone's hands, they as a people realized White Fang didn't need to make a war so devastating that everyone gave up on war.

Because they already _had_.

For Dorothy, it had taken stabbing a Gundam Pilot through the abdomen. The blood spooled around the wound had not even begun to cool when Dorothy finally realized she'd had enough of war and wanted it to end – not as she had thought before, where she'd aimed to die in a truly foolish blaze of glory, but rather that she just wanted _war itself_ to end.

Dorothy was so, so tired of burying people.

But no matter how war-weary they were, peace didn't come just because they wished it did. Peace had to be earned, peace had to be maintained – and so while she may no longer be able to pilot a mecha, Dorothy had other ways of working for the ideal Relena preached.

Because Dorothy was bred for social and political influence, and most importantly – those now in power _knew_ it.

"Oh, dare my eyes deceive me?" Dorothy crooned, framed in the doorway of Relena's marble white office. It was one of her smaller offices, in comparison to the spaces she held among the colonies, but the Brussels office had the strictest and strongest securities possible. It helped that detail-oriented Heero Yuy had checked the security himself, and likely had incorporated a secret escape passage behind some marble panel because paranoia was not a state of being for him, but a _passion_. "You truly mean to reward me, don't you, Relena?"

Relena Darlian sat behind her whitewood desk, face partly turned to Dorothy's entrance and small smile pulling her lips up – an obvious sign to those who knew her well that she was smothering laughter. Her eyes were crinkled just enough in the corner to cue Dorothy in that her friend wasn't going to intervene.

Which was what Dorothy had hoped for, because it was just so tragically hard to get _Quatre Raberba Winner_ in attendance.

The blonde boy was seated prim and proper on the guest couches, teacup and saucer in hand. The darling of L4 looked every bit the CEO in his personalized charcoal-gray suit and patterned silver-and-blue tie, and he was smiling in Dorothy's direction as if he was genuinely happy to see her.

Honestly, he _could_ have been genuinely happy to see her. Gundam Pilots were _strange_.

"Dorothy, it's been so long," Quatre said in greeting, setting his teacup down and rising. "I'm glad to see you well."

Dorothy strode forward, heels clicking against hardwood floor. "Oh, such a sweet-talker as always," she cooed. "Congratulations on securing the Sahara construction deal last month. I was most impressed; really, if anyone ever looked at your accomplishments, they'd wonder when you sleep."

Quatre's smile was beatific. "I owe the success of the deal to the people I work with, not just myself," he replied honestly.

"I imagine so," Dorothy agreed. "It'd be worrying if it was all because of you, _Preventers Chief Strategic Advisor Winner._ "

Quatre's smile never broke. "I hear your recent work is quite remarkable as well," he intoned. "Vice Foreign Ministry Advisor Catalonia."

Dorothy flipped errant locks of her blond mane over her shoulder. "I've had a new title added: _Terran Magic Liaison Officer,_ " she smirked. "I suspect you already know that if you're here."

Quatre nodded, resuming his seat as Dorothy turned to Relena. The Vice Foreign Minister looked unaccountably amused by their interaction, which was good; she'd been stressing out ever since knowledge of the Earth Sphere's magical communities came to light.

That was another thing about the Eve Wars – those who'd been involved in it had learned from the blood shed in its course, but what about those who _hadn't_ been involved? War drummed in the blood of men, Dorothy knew, and now there was a chance they'd exchange their bullets for curses.

"Quatre is here on behalf of Preventers," Relena said, glancing at the blonde male. "And not as L4's Newtype Representative."

Dorothy cocked a hip, tilting a curious look Quatre's way. "How are the arrangements for that working out?" she asked.

"Aloysius Morrow is acting as Representative in my stead when I have other engagements," Quatre responded. "I plan to have my name stricken from the next election, as the Newtype population for L4 has increased considerably in these few months. There will be a greater pool of candidates."

"You were a write-in vote," Relena reminded the boy in good-humor.

Quatre sighed. "I'll do what I can if I'm requested, but my plate is very full. I just don't have the time or energy," he said.

"Will Syed be running?" Dorothy asked. "He was excellent company at the Constellation Conference. I could see your striking resemblance."

Quatre's smile softened at the mention of his maternal cousin. "He's been helping to organize Newtype youth groups among the colonies," he said. "I don't think he plans on running in the near future but there's a definite possibility for him later."

And wasn't that just the most amazing thing of all? Syed Bukhari was only a year older than them, and now – he had the chance to be something more than an actor in war. Dorothy could see why Quatre held such affection for the young man.

"He won't run if he believes you are competition," Dorothy pointed out. "His loyalty is…inspiring." Quatre had a nasty habit of making loyal followers where ever he went. The Maguanacs were one thing, but now it felt like the rest of star system was slowly falling in line. Between him and Relena Darlian, Dorothy often thought pacifism really was feasible.

"He will come into his own," Quatre said serenely.

Dorothy took her seat at the guest sofa across from the blonde. "Which brings us to the reason I'm here," she started with a knowing smile. "The First Constellation Conference."

It had been reported to ESUN and colony leaders as a social event, meant to forge ties among young Newtypes and their wizarding peers. As most political events were, its true purpose was multi-layered and unsaid.

Chief Strategic Advisor Winner had theorized it would act as a platform for the Earth Sphere's magical communities to make their first move. They were held at such a weighty political disadvantage that they would have no alternative but to use their children to further their political goals, and one way to subtly take back power was to influence the younger generations of their political counterparts. Convince the children of their worldview, and eventually, everyone would fall in line.

Newtypes decided to go for a different approach.

Although Preventers had been provided intel from various sources about the Earth's magical communities, the information was disparate and at times, hard to understand. It was difficult to gauge another community's culture and ethics from sheets of data, and so they opted for a different method: _listen to what their children said._

Children took time to form their own social and political ideologies, and in the meanwhile, they relied on parroting what their parents said. What children knew and understood of the world around them relied heavily on school and parental influence, and so the Newtypes thought to gather the children from all across the Earth Sphere's magical communities and hear what they had to say.

What did wizards and witches know about their so-called Muggle counterparts?

What did they know about the colonies?

What did they think about each other _?_

And like good little songbirds, they mimicked the words of their parents and teachers.

"Ignorant for most, across the board," Dorothy began. "The best that can be said for them is that the ones from Eastern Europe tend to know a bit more about Muggle current events, wary of having a repeat of the wizarding counterpart to Nazi Germany. The Iranian delegation were intent on reminding us that they were known for their advances in the fields of mediwizardry. L2's representatives seemed interested."

"They would be," Quatre murmured. The plague that had rocked the L2 colony cluster over a decade ago was infamous.

Dorothy tapped her lip in thought. "There's a social hierarchy decided upon 'blood'," she recounted. "Those born from wizarding lines seem to enjoy a higher level of prestige. Those from Muggle lines are not regarded as 'inferior' per se, but there's a subtle prejudice." Subtle in the sense that none of the purebloods in attendance had said anything overt, but those with a keen mind could read the undercurrent.

"The Preventers reports mentioned that," Relena spoke up. "And Secretary Reid said that Magical Britain had a war around 15 years ago over it as well."

The mention of Magical Britain made Dorothy perk up. She'd spent some time at the Conference with one Draco Malfoy; he was nice to look at, honestly, but it was clear that every time he spoke, it was with his father's words. Still, it had presented quite an interesting picture when L3's Alex Troye had reported what he'd heard from the British witch Susan Bones.

"Magical Britain seems to be a bit of a hotbed," Dorothy started cautiously. Immediately, both Relena's and Quatre's looks turned sharp. "There's something brewing there that they're unable to agree upon."

Relena's tone was patient; her eyes were not. "Don't mince your words, Dorothy," she ordered softly.

"Currently, it's only fear," Dorothy said. "But we know - all too well - how easily men's fears turn them to war."

* * *

-..-

-..-

-..-

-.

WFhYRw0KDQoNCg==

_Decoding…_

REVMVEENCg0KDQo=

_Decoding…_

Delta.

_Decoding…_

_Decoding…_

XXXG-02: Status all clear. Now let me fucking breathe.

-..-

-..-

-..-

-.

* * *

**End Chapter 3**

* * *

**A/N** : You know what's fun to write? Remus's rose-colored lenses when it comes Duo.

_-Notes on the Constellation Conference:_

Draco's gonna learn, even if that means being under Dorothy's sadistic mercies.

Relena really does believe in the message of it but is also astute enough to know how else it can be used.

_-Notes about the Gundam Pilots:_

People know only that there were five young pilots but not their actual identities. Duo is the only special case, given his publicized capture - but that was only a rather shoddy picture so people would be hard-pressed to recognize him on sight.

_-Notes on Newtypes:_

There's a lot of rapid developments in both understanding and governmental structure with them, and so information is pretty one-sided. They're using that to its full advantage while they can.

_Thank you for reading! Please be kind and_ _**drop a kudos/comment.** _


	4. Games

**A/N:** Thank you~

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or Gundam Wing.

* * *

**Chapter 4  
**

* * *

  _Games_

* * *

 

_AC 196 July 12_

 

North Yorkshire was under a near constant blanket of clouds, thick enough that the slivers of sunshine that slipped through could hurt if looked at directly. It was a mild day, all things considered – perfect for the outing listed on the itinerary that had been provided to Duo over a week ago. Flamingo Land Theme Park was bustling with people, small children darting here and there under their parent’s watchful eyes. The light tones of the park’s theme music blared from intermittent speakers, thankfully not loud enough to be distracting, nearly drowned out by the stray toddler crying or laughing.

Duo thought this particular theme park was a bit out of his age group but pointing that out to the man seated across from him seemed like a bad idea.  Remus Lupin looked like he was kept together through sheer willpower; a thin man marred with scars and keen amber eyes underlined with stress and fatigue. If it wasn’t for the fact that Lupin moved about with a purposeful stride, Duo would feel bad about all this physical activity.

_War does fuck you up,_ Duo allowed to himself, stacking two slices of greasy, cheesy goodness together that masqueraded as his lunch at Dave’s Pizzeria, before biting down at the edge with vicious glee. It was nowhere close to what he’d been swallowing while hopping about the continental U.S., but it was a whole lot better than whatever the sadistic cook working for the Sweepers had attempted to convince him was pizza.

Lupin was working on his own slice, and Duo was privately relieved the man hadn’t tried using a fork and knife like he’d seen some of the other patrons doing. Granted, he was eating with far more poise than Duo, but Duo didn’t really feel bad about it; pizza _should_ be eaten with your hands. It was practically sacrilegious to use cutlery. One day Duo would be able to impress that point upon Quatre and Wufei, once he-

“So does this place actually have flamingos?” Duo asked, forcefully derailing his own thought process. He was getting a lot better at that these days. “Or is that just a mascot?”

“They should be in the Zoo area,” Lupin answered, setting his slice back down on his plate. He hurriedly wiped his greased-up fingers on a napkin before reaching into his pockets, pulling out the park map. He opened it, eyes scanning it hastily. “Yes, there’s a pen for them in the Zoo section. Did you want to see them after we finish here?”

Lupin was a fidgety kind of guy. _Well, not fidgety_ , Duo amended to himself. _More like…under constant stress?_ Lupin was always scanning the crowd like he feared someone was gunning for them, and while that was a constant for Duo, he didn’t really think a civilian should have that kind of paranoia streak.

Duo had done a little digging on his FRA-found sire. Remus Lupin’s records were spotty, a string of part-time employments that either ended with a resignation or a firing. Medical records presented a man known to come in with minor injuries; most tended to believe it was bar fights but Lupin’s blood-alcohol tests never showed any indication of intoxication. Drug tests showed no positive results either, which painted an odd picture for the older man. Was Remus Lupin just one seriously unlucky guy getting caught up in fights and a string of poor jobs?

There were no records of Lupin serving in any military occupations either. There was a chance he was part of some homegrown resistance group, which would have explained some of his quirks – but getting into constant pub brawls would also explain Lupin’s twitchy nature.

Lupin’s reactions to Duo were also strange, but then again – Duo didn’t really know what a normal response would be to their situation. When Duo had found out he had a living relative, a _father_ no less, hysteria had taken him over; laughter had bubbled out of his throat, the same kind that had come before when he’d been mowing down enemy combatants while piloting Deathscythe.

Duo didn’t need Quatre to tell him that was a poor coping mechanism. Duo already _knew_ that, and _Quatre ate his fucking pizza with a knife and fork, so fuck him_ -

“Sounds good,” Duo agreed, finishing off the last bite of his pizza with a harsh grind of teeth. He wrapped greasy fingers around his can of Coke, bringing it up for a quick swig. “Never seen ‘em in real time before.”

Lupin’s eyes bored into him. The man tended to hang on Duo’s every word, which was honestly a bit creepy. But maybe that was supposed to be a normal response too? Lupin had been surprisingly keen about this whole long-lost family thing they had; that hug at the airport had really clued Duo in to Lupin’s expectations: he _expected_ them to be a family.

But Duo had no idea how.

Duo didn’t know this man. Their conversations over the course of this first day together had been basic: do you like rollercoasters, is the weather always this grey, what do you want for lunch…

Duo knew Lupin’s blood type was A-positive. Duo knew Lupin was born on AC 161 March 10th, that he owned a small cottage in Yorkshire, that he had £3,602 in his bank account, and that he was currently unemployed. Duo knew that despite the scarring, Lupin wasn’t suffering from any recurring injury that inhibited his movement or agility. Duo knew that Lupin wasn’t one for fistfights because his knuckles were even in form. Duo knew he could probably lash out any time he was in arms-length of the man to knock his Adam’s apple into his throat, faster than Lupin could move to defend himself. Duo knew that Lupin apparently owned a _shit-ton_ of khaki pants and white button-ups.

Duo didn’t know how Lupin took his coffee, or if he even preferred tea over coffee. Duo didn’t know if Lupin was a newspaper reader or a TV-watcher in the mornings. Duo didn’t know if Lupin liked his eggs scrambled or sunny side-up, or if he even ate breakfast. Duo didn’t know if Lupin liked spicy food, didn’t know if he watched sports on the weekend, didn’t know if he had friends that teased him over his eyebags and Dad-fashion. Duo didn’t know if Lupin had been involved in the war, didn’t know if Lupin even cared about the war, or if he had just been a bystander watching as Duo and those he loved killed and died, killed and died, _killed and died-_

Duo knew he could ask. The war was over, enemies were friends, they were alive- _Look at this brave new world-_

“Coffee or tea?” Duo asked, playing with the tab on his now-empty can of Coke.

Lupin blinked at him, park map in hand. “I’m sorry?” he asked after a moment.

“Do you like coffee or tea?” Duo clarified, grinning cheekily.

_(Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes,_ Trowa had told him once.)

“Oh,” Lupin’s lips quirked up in a smile. “Tea. You?”

“Coffee,” Duo answered. “Although by the time I’m done adding sugar, it’s more like coffee-flavored syrup. Scrambled or sunny-side up?”

“Over-easy,” Lupin replied. “With a little salt and pepper.”

“Scrambled with cheese,” Duo said.

Lupin set the map down, amber eyes laughing. “Chocolate or vanilla?” he asked.

“Chocolate, any time, any day, any place,” Duo replied.

“Agreed,” Lupin chuckled, tone warm.

 

Duo realized it was the first thing they had in common. “Favorite sport?”

Lupin paused in thought. _Not into sports then?_ Duo mused.

“…football,” Lupin decided. “But I don’t really follow it.”

“Rugby, but I cheat,” Duo said with a devilish grin.

Lupin laughed outright. “I’d love to see that,” the man said in good humor. “Favorite food?”

“Dessert,” Duo replied whip-quick.

Lupin’s smile was infectious. “Preferably of the chocolate variety,” he agreed.

_Is having a sweet tooth an inherited trait?_ Duo wondered. Now Duo had an excuse whenever Heero complained-

“Newspaper or news program?” Duo asked.

“Newspaper,” Lupin replied easily.

Duo’s smile was teasing. “You’re such an old man,” he laughed. “Do you read it in your recliner and bemoan how us youngfolk are lazy bums with the attention spans of gnats?”

“Please,” Lupin snorted imperiously. “I sulk at the kitchen table like a proper adult.”

Duo snickered, snapping off the can’s tab. Letting it fall into the empty tin, he pulled his braid over his shoulder to fiddle with the end. He’d have to trim it soon; the marathon of cheap shampoos and conditioners he’d been using for the past few months were doing a number on it.

“Favorite color?” Lupin asked.

“Green,” Like the scythe of his Gundam. “And black.”

Lupin’s eyes darted over his clothes but he said nothing about them. “Red and gold,” he said with a wry smile. _Inside joke_ , Duo thought.

The lunch hour rush had dwindled considerably. The pizzeria was only hosting a few patrons now, most having meandered off to continue their adventure through the park. The employees were cleaning up the emptied tables, quiet and efficient, their little table by the patio mostly ignored for now.

_(Just say what you mean,_ Wufei had told him before. _Enough of your games.)_

“What’s my mom’s name?” Duo asked, tone absurdly candid.

Lupin froze.

Why was the FRA even a thing to begin with? Duo shared a select number of genes with the man across from him, and that was supposed to mean something? All it meant was that if they shared the same blood type, there was a higher chance they’d be able to successfully transplant organs into each other if necessary.

They were nothing more than the same kind of scrap.

“I’m sorry,” Lupin started quietly. “I don’t know.”

Duo shrugged, flipping his braid back over his shoulder. “That’s okay,” he said glibly. “I don’t know either.”

Lupin’s stare was layered with some unnamed emotion. ( _You’re hiding again,_ Heero had told him _. You’ll regret always hiding from yourself, Duo._ ) Duo looked away from the man’s gaze, eyes scouring the walkway that lay before the pizzeria. There were families everywhere he looked.

“…who raised you?” came Lupin’s soft, tentative question.

Duo thought of his colony’s streets and the friends he’d left tucked into crates, their gang’s idea of makeshift coffins. Duo thought of the Maxwell Church before it had become fire and rubble, and then after when that was all that was left. Duo thought of the Sweepers ship he’d snuck onto, where they’d planned to push him out of the airlock before Doctor G intervened.

“A church-run orphanage,” Duo replied.

Lupin’s hands balled into fists, Duo could see it just out of the corner of his eye. He could feel the heavy weight of the man’s gaze as it went once more to the priest collar wrapped around Duo’s throat.

_The war’s over,_ Duo reminded himself. “Favorite game?” he asked.

“…Chess,” Lupin answered, voice still soft. “You?”

“Life.”

* * *

 

_AC 196 July 13_

 

Remus wasn’t in the habit of telling people about his personal business. The preference to keep things to himself was habit, honed from years of lycanthropy – but it had certainly done him no favors during the first war, where his long absences and lack of explanations had made him suspicious in the eyes of his friends. Remus had learned from this mistake and knew what he must do.

He must tell Sirius and Dumbledore about Duo.

Remus dreaded both their reactions in equal measure. The fact that he’d fathered a child he’d subsequently unknowingly neglected may dredge up old wounds in his friend, or just the fact that Remus had been able to sire a child while Sirius ended up in Azkaban would be enough to send the dog Animagus into a foul mood.

Sirius was getting a lot better these days, especially after that short stint in the tropics last year. But the wounds from Azkaban were not even close to healed, and now locked up in his old, detestable inheritance was enough to make Sirius’s mood swings even more severe. Sirius at his worst made Buckbeak look positively tame.

Then there was the issue of Dumbledore. In any other circumstance, Remus wouldn’t need to explain to the headmaster – but as a member of the Order of the Phoenix and amid a burgeoning war, Remus could not just wander about as easily as he pleased. He had responsibilities to Dumbledore and he couldn’t ignore the Headmaster without some reason for doing so.

It was with this in mind that he had asked Dumbledore for some of his time. With his job as Headmaster and with the rising tension in the Ministry, Dumbledore did not have much free time – so it was nothing short of a miracle that Dumbledore had agreed to meet with Remus on what the former DADA professor had noted as an ‘important matter’. The agreed-upon meeting place would be Grimmauld Place, so Remus figured he should tell Sirius at the same time.

Duo was scheduled to stay in the British Isles until the 20th, and Remus wanted to spend as much time with the youth as he could before he left. That was just seven more days – surely the war could wait just one more week?

Remus arrived at Number 12 Grimmauld Place a quarter of an hour before 10PM, their designated meeting time. He’d spent most of the day out with Duo; they’d met for lunch, then gone to The Deep, a public aquarium that offered interactive exhibits among its displays. Duo’s admission about his lack of experience with actual wildlife had stuck out to Remus from that first day at Flamingo Land.

Well, among many other things.

Duo wore a priest collar because he’d been raised in a church-run orphanage. Remus’s son had been raised in an orphanage because Remus had had no clue he even existed; that up there among the sea of stars, Remus had flesh and blood that had needed him, and _Remus had not been there_.

That was why Duo was an emancipated minor. An orphanage only kept children until a certain age, and when they reached that age, they had to find their own way in life.

Duo had come down to Earth just to see him, and Remus had never even tried to see if Duo wanted to stay. How much was it to travel from a space colony to Earth? The Preventers letter never mentioned any form of covering expenses, and Remus was using his own money to pay for his and Duo’s little day trips.

Was Duo paying for his own travel and lodging? Duo had rented out a small cottage in Remus’s little hamlet, the only form of rental space available that provided any form of privacy. Remus hadn’t even thought to offer his own home as a place to stay, embarrassed by its shabby appearance. Remus had not even considered that Duo may be as financially-strapped as him.

Three days in, and Remus already failed as a father.

The air of Sirius’s unwanted home was musty as ever, but thankfully through years of practice, Remus maintained composure as he exited the Floo. Being forced to listen to Walburga Black’s portrait shriek at him was always sure to leave a ringing in his ears. There was a light clanging from the kitchen; Remus followed the sound in hopes of finding Sirius rather than the ill-tempered Kreacher.

His hopes were blessedly answered: Sirius was puttering around the kitchen, seemingly setting up for tea. A plate of steaming scones was set on the table and kept fresh under a charm, most likely a gift from Molly Weasley; Arthur came every now and then for Order meetings, dropping off the occasional gift of food from his wife.

“Finally learned how to be a proper host, Pads?” Remus teased in greeting, stepping fully into the kitchen.

Sirius whirled around, grin on his lips and nearly spilling the cup of tea he’d just poured himself. “Never fear, Moony,” he started with a cheeky smile. “I plan to eat all the scones myself. Wouldn’t want to give you false hope.”

“How kind of you,” Remus returned dryly, before darting out a hand to swipe a scone. Sirius lunged forward with a bark of laughter, half-heartedly attempting to swipe it back as Remus easily danced out of his reach.

“Scoundrel!” Sirius cried out theatrically, taking up the plate of scones in faux-outrage. “Thief!”

“Mutt,” Remus returned pointedly, taking a victorious bite.

Sirius laid a hand over his heart in mock-hurt.

“Have I come at a bad time?”

Both men turned at the amused voice, dispositions quickly turned into guilty teenagers about to be reprimanded by an authority figure. Albus Dumbledore stood in the kitchen doorway, blue eyes twinkling in good-natured humor as he took in their expressions.

“Remus Lupin is a _thief_ and I simply must ask that you _dismiss_ _him_ , Headmaster,” Sirius responded gravely.

Remus straightened his shoulders. “This is an _outrage_ ,” he intoned. “I have lived an honest life, Headmaster, and I’m sure you can personally attest that I was a perfect student-“

“Perfect _twat_ ,” Sirius cut in.

“-who never broke the rules, or covered for his miserable friends after they booby-trapped-“

“Lies! Lies and slander!” Sirius broke in. “You come into my home and insult me like this?!”

“Now, now, Sirius,” Dumbledore interjected, coming further inside in order to pick up a scone from the plate Sirius was still holding. “I’m sure Remus is very aware of the libel laws.”

“Crook,” Sirius shot at Remus.

Remus smirked. “Takes one to know one,” he replied.

Dumbledore chuckled lowly, taking a seat at the table as the other two did the same. Sirius placed the scone plate back down and waved his wand lazily, the tea kettle and matching cups waiting on the counter floating up and over to them. The teapot poured its contents into three cups, which soon met the hands of the three waiting men.

“Thank you for your time, Albus,” Remus started, dropping the humorous pretense.

Dumbledore’s smile was gentle, his eyes probing. “You mentioned it was important and I know you aren’t one to exaggerate,” he said.

Sirius leaned forward a bit in his seat. Remus had thought about telling them separately, but simply lacked the time to do so; he wanted to spend as much time with Duo as he could before the boy left and getting Dumbledore to a meeting was difficult in this trying time.

Remus gripped his cup a little tighter. “What do you know about the Family Reconstruction Act?”

“The _what?”_ Sirius choked out.

Dumbledore’s gaze was heavy – and knowing. “An international mandate from the Muggle government organization known as Preventers,” he explained. “It’s meant to reconnect families that were scattered by the Muggle war last year. If I’m not mistaken, they use Muggle science that identifies blood family members.”

Remus nodded, eyes moving from the two men to the tabletop. Going by Dumbledore’s knowing look and Sirius’s sharp intake of breath, they were starting to see where Remus was going with this. “The FRA – this mandate – finds parents, siblings, and…children,” he started haltingly. “I… I have a match.”

“…In what way?” came Sirius’s tentative inquiry.

Remus glanced up; Dumbledore’s expression had not changed but Sirius’s had shifted to carefully-cultivated neutrality.

“I have a son,” Remus said.

The kitchen fell silent.

“I’ve used Muggle hospitals every now and then,” Remus continued, this time at a rush. “They used a blood sample they’d taken from me and put it into their system. I… He’s sixteen. I-I didn’t know. It was back during the first war, I met a Muggle woman in a pub, she was going to the space colonies, I didn’t even know she was pregnant-“

“Remus,” Dumbledore interrupted his stream of words. “You may want to take a chance to breathe.”

Remus’s hands clenched more around his cup of cooling tea as he took deliberately steady breaths. Sirius was still, expression completely blindsided as he stared at Remus. Dumbledore was, to Remus’s surprise, smiling kindly at him.

“I suppose congratulations are in order,” Dumbledore began cheerfully.

Remus blinked, heart stuttering in his chest. “Oh- uh, thank you?”

Dumbledore took a meditative sip of tea. “You said his mother went to the space colonies? Are they both still there?” he asked.

Remus fidgeted, glancing away from the wizened wizard to a spot behind the headmaster. “He lives in the space colonies,” According to the FRA letter, somewhat validated by Duo. “His mother…isn’t in the picture. He grew up in an orphanage.”

“I see,” Dumbledore murmured. “It must have been difficult for him…”

Remus swallowed dryly. “I- The FRA sets up meetings when you have a match. Duo contacted them first, said he wanted to meet… We- He’s here. In Yorkshire, actually. He rented a little vacation cottage, he’ll be here until the 20th…” Remus trailed off.

“Duo?” Sirius echoed, voice scratchy like he was choking back some emotion dredged up from whatever was left of the mess the Dementors had made of him. “His name is _Duo?”_

“It’s a perfectly good name,” Remus snapped back defensively.

Sirius stared at him.

“Am I correct in assuming you’ve already met with him?” Dumbledore asked in the silence that lapsed. Remus nodded in answer, tearing his eyes off his best friend to stare into his cup instead. It was amazing, how easily Dumbledore could reduce him back to a chagrined student.

“I believed it was safe,” Remus explained, carefully calm. “Duo used a computer – that Muggle device that looks like a box, they use it for communication. Death Eaters wouldn’t know how to use one, nor would they know how to use a telephone. And Duo- he’s Muggle.” The teen may not have any experience with wildlife, but he easily navigated things like taxis and buses that wizards hardly put to use. And unlike Remus, who had set off some Muggle security checkpoints when entering the theme park or aquarium and accidentally short-circuited an automatic ticketing machine just by touching it, Duo easily moved through them.

“You’re quite right,” Dumbledore agreed. “Death Eaters believe Muggle technologies are beneath them. If he’s done as you said, he must be the real thing.”

Dumbledore’s disposition was encouraging, which was much than Remus had expected. Dumbledore seemed to understand Remus’s bewilderment. “It’s a wonderful thing to have family, especially in this difficult time, Remus. Parenthood is a gift unlike any other, or so I have been told,” he informed his former student.

“Wait wait wait!” Sirius interjected, a flurry of movement as he nearly knocked over his tea in his haste to interrupt. “So, we’re just- accepting this? What if he’s an impostor?”

“He’s not,” Remus refuted quickly. “He can use Muggle technology, he’s familiar with Muggle customs- I picked him up from the _airport_ , Sirius. You think someone like Lucius Malfoy even knows what an airplane is, much less how to use one?”

“He could be a squib the Death Eaters are using,” Sirius pointed out.

“What squib familiar with Muggle culture would side with the Dark Lord?” Remus asked. “And before you ask, he’s not Imperius’d or anything of the sort.” If they spent even five minutes with the boy, they’d definitely agree; Duo could talk circles around anyone. There was no way someone under the control of the Imperius charm would have that level of autonomy.

Sirius opened his mouth as if to make another argumentative point but shut it when he realized he didn’t have any more claims to make. Remus had argued all these points with himself, after all; meeting Duo that first time only validated that the boy really was the genuine article.

“You’re certain he’s a Muggle?” Dumbledore asked after a moment. “He’s made no mention of any accidental magic he may have had?”

Remus shook his head. “He came here just a couple days ago. We…don’t really talk about when he was younger. But he grew up in the space colonies, so…”

“Don’t the star islands have wizards now?” Sirius spoke up. “What did the Prophet call them- Newtypes?”

Dumbledore nodded. “Yes, a curious group,” he said. “They’re quite involved in their Muggle communities.”

Remus thought about it. Duo hadn’t shown any signs of magic, nor had he mentioned anything that may have hinted at magical prowess. He could be hiding it, but he was a sixteen-year-old kid; teens were awful at hiding things. Remus would have seen something that hinted at magical ability by now if Duo had any.

“I’ll keep an eye out for it, but I haven’t seen anything that may suggest he has magic,” Remus said. “His mother was a Muggle. There’s a chance Duo just didn’t inherit my…magic.”

Sirius shifted, fingers drumming on the table. “You said he grew up in an orphanage,” he pointed out, voice as close to subdued as Sirius ever got. “Does that mean… Are you going to take him in?”

Remus stilled. Dumbledore remained conspicuously quiet, taking another sip of his tea as he awaited the answer. This was the real crux of the matter, this was why Dumbledore had needed to be informed – because Remus’s duties as an Order member would be greatly affected by his newfound parenthood.

“Duo is an emancipated minor,” Remus started, voice quiet and carefully even. “He’s free to make his own decision on the matter. He… He’s only here for a visit. I’m not sure about his current living situation but he seems to have a place to return to if he’s already reserved a ticket back.”

Duo would stay until the 20th, and then he was off again – either back to the space colonies or somewhere else in the world. Duo’s ability to move was inspiring; Remus could only imagine that kind of freedom and was overjoyed to see that Duo had claimed some part of it. Duo would make more of himself than Remus ever could have at that age.

“If Duo needs me to,” Remus started halting. “If- If he asks me to – then yes. I will take him in. It’s the least I can do, being absent from his life for all these years.” Remus owed the world to Duo – he knew that. Remus owed Duo a life, he just wasn’t sure he could provide the kind of life he wished Duo had had while growing up.

“Family doesn’t mean collecting on unsaid debts,” Dumbledore said.

Sirius snorted. “My mum wouldn’t agree with you on that,” he muttered.

“I would want to,” Remus replied. “I want to take Duo in. He’s- He’s wonderful. Absolutely brilliant in every way.” The way Duo smiled, the way he laughed, the way he chattered a mile a minute with minimal input; Duo had cheered up a little girl at the theme park when she’d been upset that the lions wouldn’t come out of their shelter by emulating lion roars, getting a whole group of kids to do the same until one of the lions edged out of its shelter in curiosity. Remus had watched the spectacle with wide eyes; this was what the Muggle world had made of his son, and Remus had never been prouder.

“But it’s dangerous here,” Remus said. “And Duo – he’s a Muggle. He would be safer anywhere but here. I won’t risk his safety for my own gratification.”

Remus would give anything if it meant Duo would never learn the horrors of war.

* * *

**End Chapter 4**

* * *

 

**A/N** : Had to split this chapter in two because it got too long, lol. Next chapter will be up soon now though! You even get to see Wufei next chapter, who has taken over annoying Heero in Duo's absence, lmao.

Thank you to everyone who dropped a comment/kudos! :) Please be kind and drop one as well!

 


	5. In The Blood

**Disclaimer** : I do not own Harry Potter or Gundam Wing.

* * *

  **Chapter 5**

* * *

_In The Blood_

* * *

  _AC 196 July 16_

 

The incessant clicking of fingers moving over the computer keyboard filled the room, a regular and steady thrum of noise that was hardly disrupted as of late. The office – more a room of glorified cubicles – was made for eight, even if more often than not, it was only at half capacity. The number was in constant shift at the beginning, but as the year continued, the ebb and flow had reached a steady number of six. At the current hour, it was only two, the other four out on assignment or errands.

It would be seven, in the times Quatre wasn’t pulled to one meeting or conference for any number of reasons. Wufei did not envy the Winner heir’s workload, though true to Quatre’s abilities, the blonde pulled off everything excellently.

_It should be eight,_ Wufei thought in one of his rare moments of idleness. His time was often occupied these days by matters related to _magic_ , of all things - as a former Gundam Pilot, he was one of the Preventers most experienced agents; as a Level One Newtype, he was _indispensable_.

Newtypes, as they had taken to calling themselves for lack of anything better, were quick to figure out how to organize themselves. Preventers had stepped in to help them figure out not only how to organize, but also how to identify others – wizards and Newtypes alike. Although each Newtype had, to some degree, an ability to sense those who could use magic – they had to be in close proximity, which meant they were essentially finding Newtypes with a dousing rod.

The Earth wizarding communities had been useless in that arena. Not only did their abilities not work outside of the Earth Sphere, they had magical artifacts that identified magic users for them but had no idea how they even worked. These artifacts were layered with so much ancient magic lost to time and tradition that current-age wizards didn’t even know how they worked.

Preventers had scanned and studied the Newtypes they employed zealously, trying to find some underlying common feature to search for. They’d ended up stumbling upon irregularities when doing MRI scans of Newtypes; their reactions to different stimuli often affecting more than a few regions of their central nervous system, as if their bodies were naturally reaching for something that others did not have.

Newtypes had a sensitivity to those of their ilk, to varying degrees depending on their own abilities. A Level Three Newtype may only feel a bit of a nag at the edge of their senses when passing another magic-user, easily shrugged off if they were harried. A Level Two Newtype, of which made up the bulk of the Newtype Preventers agents, could register the presence of a magic-user in their vicinity. A Level One Newtype, such as Wufei, could sense the presence of a magic user even if they were in a different room; it was similar to the feeling he got when he was being targeted for attack, minus the hostility in most cases.

The problem with this system was that Preventers could not force the entire galactic population to do an MRI. They were able to make it a necessary step to law enforcement employment and were even able to slip it in as part of the FRA exam for minors – a sort of welfare health check, to make sure the kids weren’t suffering from any illnesses contracted during the course of the war.

This disproportionately affected the current Newtype population: it was mostly former soldiers, current law enforcement offices, and _children_. In the present time, the numbers were slowly but obviously growing; through sheer exposure, Newtypes were finding other Newtypes. If a Newtype suspected someone of being the same, they only needed to convince them to visit the Preventers to do an MRI. If the MRI found the same irregularity, a Newtype Preventers Agent or someone of equal agency – a Level Two Newtype with similar credentials – was sent to verify.

It was labor intensive, the necessary manpower draining Preventers’ Newtypes agents’ ability to continue their multitude of missions effectively. Une had foreseen the complications at the beginning, and as soon as Newtypes began to grow enough as a community on their own, she’d tried to edge Preventers out of their position as a harvester.

Initially, she’d tried to get Relena Darlian to accept a position as Chief Representative of the Newtype community despite the Vice Foreign Minister not being one. Relena was well-liked by the Newtypes community, and for the most part, Newtypes did not distinguish themselves as a completely separate community; it was more they just had an additional ability. That was the distinctive difference between Newtypes and Earth’s magical communities; the latter held themselves aloft from their Muggle counterparts, the former was so closely intertwined that they couldn’t imagine being separated.

Relena had declined taking up a Newtype leadership position, believing an actual Newtype should be the one to represent them. She, under Une’s blessing, had instead offered the position to Quatre; a Newtype that was practically revered among his peers. Quatre, being Quatre, had not accepted the position – suggesting that instead of one representative for the entire Newtype collective, they form a committee meant to represent the Newtype community of each colony cluster.

This was how, currently, Preventers now got to interact with the fifteen members of the Newtype Committee. The five colony clusters each elected a Representative, a Vice Representative, and a Secretary to form the Newtype Committee. The Committee had held an interim election for their members but were currently setting an official date for the actual election once the Newtype population numbers stabilized.

Quatre had been voted in as L4’s Representative, to his chagrin; the Winner heir was so busy nowadays that his Vice Representative often filled in for him for Committee affairs. Sally had jokingly suggested Wufei offer himself as candidate for the L5 colony cluster, but Wufei had threatened murder and/or resignation if anyone dared reveal him. He had no interest in politics, and if the Newtypes of L5 figured out that not only was he one of them but also a _Gundam Pilot_ , he’d be voted in regardless of his wishes. Quatre had only been suckered in because of his family’s stance of pacifism during the war, his natural charisma, and his well-known charitable personality; Winner Enterprises was known for multiple charity projects in reconstruction among the colonies.

“Chang.”

Wufei glanced over the cubicle wall – _What’s even the point of these walls if I can see his entire desk area?_ he thought spitefully. – to where Heero sat, staring at him with his familiar stoic expression. It was only through sheer exposure to the taciturn pilot that Wufei could even discern the exhaustion that lined Heero’s shoulders.

“I require your stapler,” Heero said.

Wufei frowned at him even as he pulled open his desk drawer to retrieve said item. “What happened to yours, Yuy?” he asked.

“It’s broken,” Heero replied. The former pilot of Wing Zero obligingly reached into his trash bin, pulling up the marred remains of his Preventers-issued stapler; it was charred black in random areas, some of the metal pulled back as if it had been attempting to explode itself.

Wufei snorted. _Of course_ , he thought, handing his stapler over to his friend. Just because Heero’s face betrayed nothing didn’t mean he was feeling perfectly fine. Wufei had been present in the canteen last week when Heero had accidentally snapped his fork in half. (The horror that came across some of the faces of the other agents had been hilarious in hindsight.) Wufei could only imagine what had happened to the laptop Heero had replaced after Duo’s last message.

Wufei took a moment to just watch Heero as he stapled his reports. Une required paper copies as back-up to any mission report, although reports regarding magic users were kept almost exclusively on electronics given that magic users couldn’t use technology. Something about their magic interfered with electronics, a handicap Newtypes did not share; Sally theorized that because Newtypes spent so much time in space utilizing the electronic systems that kept colonies alive, their magic had adapted to technology for sheer survival purposes.

Thus Heero’s little outbursts were more indicative of his tumultuous emotional state rather than a sign of an inability to control his own magic. After all, just like the other pilots – Heero Yuy was a Level One Newtype.

“You could apologize,” Wufei stated without preamble.

Heero did not even look up from his reports. “I apologized for what I sincerely could,” he replied in neutral tones. “Apologizing for anything more would be a lie, and Duo cannot stand being lied to.”

Wufei’s eyes cantered over to the desk next to Heero. It’d been empty for months now, souring Wufei’s mood the longer it went. Occasionally, someone would leave a little gift, a silent plea to some omnipotent force that the desk’s owner return: Heero refreshed a small vase of flowers every week like a robotic florist, Sally and Quatre had taken to dropping off candy so that they’d been forced to get a bowl in order to collect them, Trowa left tiny origami animals stashed in the empty spaces unobtrusively, and even Wufei was guilty of putting canisters of his friend’s favorite brand of coffee in the desk drawer.

It had gotten to the point where even saying Duo Maxwell’s name in the office was a quick way to ensure some random office supply was accidentally destroyed. Noin watched the collection grow on Duo’s desk with a wary sort of amusement, and Zechs Merquise had quipped a week ago that it was starting to become a shrine.

If there was a summoning spell strong enough to bring Duo to them when the Deathscythe pilot so clearly did not want to be found, Wufei would have used it already.

Duo didn’t even know _what he was_.

Duo had taken what he’d informed Une was ‘sabbatical leave’, and the head of Preventers had granted it without question. Wufei wished he’d been in the office that day – to talk Duo down, to convince him not to leave, to do something for his friend. But Wufei had been on a mission and Duo had taken off without a word of warning of his departure.

Their means of contact – the coded messaging system they’d used during the war – went ignored by their braided friend in the months between. Weeks without contact, without any clue where Duo had run off to or how to reach him. Duo had missed the discovery of Newtypes, had never met with any one of them so that he could be told; Duo was a Newtype, of that they were sure. There’d always been- _something_ in the air between them, but they’d just attributed that to the connection they’d forged as comrades. As Gundam Pilots, they were expected to be more than the average soldier – it hadn’t occurred to them there was something magical about it.

And now, with all that Preventers had learned of Newtypes and their abilities, they had no way of contacting Duo to inform him. Wufei knew Heero could find Duo if needed, because even Duo’s abilities of subterfuge and evasion were not enough to remain invisible to the searching power of one obsessed Heero Yuy.

But Heero said Duo needed time, because Duo was _upset_.

“When Maxwell is upset, he tie-dyes your training shirts and fills your locker with dollar-store slime,” Wufei started bitingly. Come to think of it, he never did get back at Duo for that; he’d had to change lockers because of that slime. Wufei was half-convinced Duo had actually taken the time to make it, which was just such a petty thing for Duo to do that Wufei was now a hundred percent certain that’s exactly what Duo did. “He doesn’t disappear for months only to message Winner to fuck off.”

“He didn’t say ‘fuck off,’” Heero replied evenly.

Wufei glared at him. “None of this was Winner’s fault to begin with, and yet Maxwell is lashing out at _all of us,_ ” he stated coldly. “Maybe you and Barton should record a message of you two begging for forgiveness while on your knees.”

“Barton wasn’t at fault either,” Heero refuted. “The blame lies solely on me. Duo knows this, he’s just upset.”

_Of course he’s upset,_ Wufei thought critically. The fallout of Heero’s actions had left Preventers one excellent agent short, and more importantly – had sent one of Wufei’s closest friends running.

“Duo will return,” Heero said with utmost certainty. “He just needs time.”

Time. It was such a novel thought, the idea that they now had time to spend freely. They were not confined by the urgent mission parameters of war anymore, and they had time to fight and sulk like the teenagers they were.

Wufei scowled as he came to sudden realization. “Maxwell’s going to find a way to magically turn my hair pink, I just know it,” he muttered. Hair dyes didn’t work on his jet-black hair, but with the full scope of magic at Duo’s disposal – Wufei could only imagine the horrors that would unfold.

The corner of Heero’s lips twitched up as he smothered a smile.

“Fuck you, Yuy,” Wufei snipped.

Noin stepped into the office then, glancing over at them – probably to make sure they hadn’t inadvertently destroyed something – before her eyes fell on the new addition to Duo’s desk that Trowa had dropped off early that morning: a picture of all five of the former Gundam pilots, Duo’s smiling face in the center.

“Oh my god, it really is a shrine,” she said weakly, staring at it.

“Don’t be stupid, woman,” Wufei sneered. “No one’s lit candles or incense for him.”

Heero’s methodical stapling paused. “…Duo is partial to the smell of sandalwood,” he noted aloud.

“ _No_ , Yuy.”

 

* * *

_AC 196 July 18_

 

Two more days.

Duo felt a little bad about keeping a running countdown, but he just couldn’t help it. It was a habit he’d developed during the war, his internal clock always engaged to better carry out missions. Even in his downtime, he wasn’t entirely free of it; he’d practically have a mini-mission list for the weekend. Given who he spent most of his time with, though, it was never an issue – more a shared trait.

Duo twisted the cap off his bottle of soda, the taste of the sugary beverage momentarily distracting him from his own reminiscence. It was so exhausting at times, being at the mercy of his own thoughts. Why couldn’t he just turn off, like a computer going into shutdown?

_Pretty sure that’s a coma,_ Duo mused. He turned his attention to his laptop, which was currently going through his playlist to fill the quiet of the cottage. The little vacation cottage he’d rented out for his stay in Yorkshire was a homey place, most likely meant for a couple’s romantic getaway. Duo didn’t know why anyone would come here for romance, but to each his own; as it was, Ironworker’s Barn’s summer cottage was affordable and private, which was all Duo needed from a rental space.

It was technically a one-room cottage, but the loft upstairs was sectioned off by metal railing, the bed partly obscured by a wooden bookshelf filled with classic literature. From the loft railing, you could see most of the cottage interior: a living space crowded with a couple of comfy armchairs and small loveseat, a glass coffee table, a television hanging on the wall, and a small dining table meant for two. The ceiling had large wooden beams vaulted across the top, more for decoration than a means of stabilization. The kitchenette was directly under the overhanging loft, sectioned off by a matching island counter. The bathroom was behind it, a small space with a shower-tub combo.

There were two doors to the outside and five large windows; one window by the kitchenette, three in the living space, and one by the bed. The doors were located on adjacent walls, which Duo privately thought was pointless but knew he couldn’t expect much from a remodeled barn. In any case, the windows were large enough for him to squeeze through if needed.

Duo’s eyes moved over the assortment of souvenirs he’d inadvertently collected over the past week. A silly hat from Flamingo Land, a water globe from the aquarium, the mock medal given to him for completing that adventure course they’d done on the 14th, a souvenir keychain from that small town hosting a “spy mission,” a palm-sized stuffed alpaca toy Duo had stared at too long in the Beacon gift shop, a 24-pack of chocolate truffles, and a tin mug from the Abbeydale Industrial Hamlet that they’d gone to today.

Lupin just bought him anything and everything if Duo made the mistake of even showing even marginal interest in it. Duo could only watch as Lupin’s meager savings drained from his bank account over the course of the trip; any attempt he made to dissuade the man was deflected with a pleasant smile and amiable countenance.

_Is this what parents do?_ Duo wondered. He doubted it; Father Maxwell and Sister Helen had never done anything of the sort, but then again, they’d hardly had the funds to do so. And they did let Duo get away with quite a bit, troublemaker that he was, so maybe Lupin was just channeling parental actions into a different channel than Duo was accustomed.

Duo didn’t believe they’d gown any closer. It’d been only a week, after all, and Duo had never started another game of 20 questions with Lupin after that first day. He just couldn’t quite muster up the courage to do so. Sharing anything personal about himself dredged up feelings he’d been avoiding acknowledging for months now, and Duo was not ready to address them with a virtual stranger, even if that stranger was related to him by blood.

_Not everyone gets closure,_ Duo thought, shaking the water globe. He almost wanted to break it; the idyllic underwater scene captured inside was irritating to look at for too long, but if Lupin ever found out, he’d be devastated. Besides, Duo knew better than to take out his frustrations on unrelated objects, so instead he just placed it back down on the table and glared at the ceiling instead.

The music playing on his laptop stuttered, then stopped completely - just as all the lights turned off simultaneously.

Duo bolted upright from his chair. _Power outage?_ was his first thought, but he quickly discarded it; a power outage wouldn’t turn off his laptop, which had over half a battery life left. It was most likely an EMP; an electromagnetic pulse could easily take out the cottage light fixtures, and a particularly strong one could shut off his laptop. And- _there_. That creeping sensation that started from the nape of his neck, that strange innate sensor he’d used throughout the war to keep himself alive – he was being hunted.

Duo slowed his breathing and opened his senses. There was nothing; no wind, no crickets, not even the sound of creaking pipes hidden in the walls. It was like the entire area was drenched in a suffocating blanket of silence, unnatural to the highest degree.

His eyes moved to the doors and windows. _It’s coming_ , his intuition clamored at the back of his mind. Duo moved instinctually, up the stairs and into the loft area. He pulled out the handgun he’d had stashed away under the mattress before moving over to the railing, stepping up and leaping up onto one of the ceiling beams in one fluid movement.

Swinging himself up into a perch where he could see a majority of the living space of the ground floor, Duo clicked off the safety on his firearm. He had an eye on the door but kept himself out of sight, helped by the darkness that obscured the interior of the cottage. He couldn’t discern anything that may hint at someone approaching and yet his instincts screamed in warning, so Duo pressed himself into the corner between beam and wall, the muzzle of his weapon already aimed at the door.

And then the door opened.

Duo’s body, thrumming with adrenaline, remained perfectly still as he cloaked himself in the dark. He watched with unblinking eyes as three tall figures entered the ground floor; black flowing robes nearly melted into the room devoid of luminescence, but what slivers of moonlight filtered in through the windows caught on gleaming silver skull masks.

_A prank?_ Duo threw away that idea too; locals looking to give outsiders a good scare wouldn’t go so far as to use an EMP, nor would there be such a thick sense of hostility hovering in the air around them. These people weren’t looking just to scare him, Duo knew – they wanted to do something much worse.

“Where is it?” one of the cloaked figures growled, moving about the small living space.

_It?_ Duo echoed internally. _They’re looking for something?_

“He was here,” one of the others replied. “The lights were on. Must have gotten scared when we set up the anti-apparition wards since they turned off the lights.”

The tallest of the three made what sounded like a snort behind his mask. “These damn muggles,” the male sneered. “Worse than mice.”

_Looking for me_ , Duo amended. Some of the words made no sense to him, though; perhaps it was British slang? Was that ward thing they mentioned a type of EMP device used here? There was also something very familiar in the way they spoke about him – as if he were something less, an inferior being more alike to pests than people. _Oh_ , Duo thought. That’s right – that’s how he and his gang had been regarded back on the streets of L2. Vermin carried disease, and his colony’s street orphans were regarded in the same manner.

No one else followed the three inside, and the taller figure shut the door behind himself. Duo knew he wouldn’t have the advantage for long; the cottage was too small, with not enough spots to hide if they were intent on finding him. There was also a chance the masks had some kind of night-vision goggle built in, as the three had no trouble moving about the place. Duo’s eyes had already adjusted to the dark; he’d always been quicker to adapt to his surroundings.

Just as the first man turned in the direction of the stairs, Duo took aim and fired; the man’s kneecap exploded with a sharp pop and he buckled under the sudden loss, a scream aborted by the sheer quickness of the attack. He toppled forward, arms flailing and accidentally knocking off a potted houseplant on the island counter before his temple met the corner of the counter with a sickening crack.

“Selwyn?!” one of the other cloaked men snapped out in surprise.

Duo didn’t wait. He darted across the wooden beam to get a vantage point of the other side of the room, where the two other cloaked figures were standing and staring at their fallen comrade in what seemed to be shock. The taller one came back to his senses when the next shot went off, the shorter male falling to the ground with a scream as his shin bone was shattered by a bullet.

“It’s the muggle!” the taller man screamed out, grabbing the other by his collar and dragging him under the foyer and into the kitchenette. “Stand up, Gibbon! Stand up!”

“I-I can’t! My leg!” the shorter sobbed out. He was dropped unceremoniously to the ground, blood gushing from the hole lodged under his left kneecap.

Duo climbed back over into the foyer, grabbing the trash bin next to the bookcase as he strode over to the stairs. _13 rounds left_ , he tallied. That would be more than enough to take care of the last man. Once he’d neutralized the threats they posed, he’d bind them up and do some emergency first aid so they didn’t bleed out. Arguably, this was still self-defense; they had been breaking and entering, and they were clearly aiming for him, for whatever reason. Duo figured he would interrogate them once he had them tied up.

With a flick of the wrist, he threw the rubbish bin down the stairs before pivoting and darting over to the railing. Just as he’d suspected, the last of the cloaked men responded to the noise – but perplexingly, a bolt of green light lit up the narrow corridor of the stairwell.

_The fuck was that?_ Duo wondered, even as he used one hand to propel himself over the railing, landing atop the island counter with a muted thud. The sound had the last cloaked man turning, but Duo was a step quicker; jumping off the counter and tackling him to the ground.

“You filthy-“ Duo pistol-whipped him across the face, putting a stop to the words as blood and teeth came flying out. Something from the man’s right hand clattered to the floor, catching Duo’s eye: a slightly crooked stick with a heavy handle.

The sight of it caught Duo off-guard. The man was going to subdue him…with a stick?

“Mudblood filth!”

Duo jerked his body to the side as a bright green light careened past him. He rolled back up to his feet, moving around the island counter to put a barrier between himself and his assailant. _A laser?_ Duo thought as he jumped back over the counter.

The man he’d shot second was using another stick, and when he caught sight of Duo’s shadow moving over the counter, he whipped the stick around. A jet of bright green light shot out of the tip but Duo dodged that as well; he didn’t know what it would do, but if they were trying to hit him with it, then he bet it was nothing good.

Duo lunged forward, one hand grabbing the man’s wrist, holding the stick away from him as he swung his other arm back to bring the butt of the Glock against the side of his opponent’s head. The man fell limp to the ground just as the hair on the back of Duo’s neck stood on end; he fell back and to the right, using his momentum to pull the unconscious man up and jerk him around like a body shield.

Another jet of green light hit his impromptu shield, sending both the body and Duo flying back to hit the kitchen wall. The rack of pans hanging overhead were knocked loose at the movement, raining down on the two; one pot hit Duo’s hand on the way down, knocking the gun out of his grip as another clipped his temple.

“You worthless muggle,” the tallest cloaked man snarled. A dribble of blood was draining from the corner of his mouth, the words somewhat muffled by his injury. “If you think this is going to be quick-“

Duo bolted to his feet and launched forward, snagging the handle of a frying pan and bringing it around to smash into the side of the man’s head. The cloaked male was whip quick with his stick, and the next thing Duo knew, the frying pan smacked into a light blue _sheen_ that seemed to be pouring out from the man’s stick.

_Lasers don’t do that_ , Duo registered in blank shock. Despite his mental stall, his body instinctively knew how to move: he dropped the frying pan instantly, instead pulling out a pocketknife he’d kept wedged in his boot. He jutted it forward, but sure enough, it met the same strange blue sheen that stopped it mid-movement. Duo couldn’t see it, but he knew the man was sneering behind his ornate mask.

_Again_ , Duo thought. He pulled back and slashed forward once more; the blue shield crackled at the contact this time, a tremor creeping up his opponent’s arm as he let out a surprised shout. Again, Duo slashed forward; spiderweb-thin cracks spread out from the point of contact between his knife and the man’s shield. Again, and again, and again – blue flakes dropped and shattered into flaring embers that died before they reached the ground.

“What are you!” the male screamed. _“What the fuck are you!”_

Duo’s head was ringing, sharp flares of pain striking into his hand from where it scraped against the shield in his fervor to break it. But Duo knew he couldn’t let up, couldn’t rest and regain his bearings; this man had aimed for him, had went after him, had actually injured him. Enemy combatants went after Gundam Pilots for one of two reasons: to kill them or to capture them.

Duo couldn’t allow that. His knife lashed forward and the blue shield fell apart like a cascade of starlight. Duo hooked a foot around the man’s left ankle, jerking it out from underneath him. He couldn’t get captured, not again, and he wasn’t going to die here either, not when _he had to avenge_ \- The man fell back and Duo darted forward to follow him down, knocking the stick from his hand and ripping the mask off in the same movement.

It didn’t matter that Duo didn’t recognize the face underneath it. He’d never be able to recall the names or faces of every single person he’s killed. Duo drew his blade across the man’s throat, his assailant’s last words lost in a swell of blood. The body jerked, heaving more blood up into the gorged throat, but Duo kept the man’s limbs pinned down as the blood spilled out onto the floor.

Ten seconds, fifteen seconds, twenty seconds later – and the body stilled.

Thirty seconds, forty seconds, fifty seconds later – and Duo remembered himself.

Duo climbed back to his feet and moved away from the cooling body he’d left behind on the kitchen floor. He took stock of himself quickly: his temple ached, his hand hurt, and there was blood splatter over his right hand and staining his clothes.

He looked down at the unrecognizable man. _Dead_ , he assessed clinically, eyes moving onto the next cloaked figure. A quick check of his vitals yielded no pulse or heartbeat. _Dead_. Duo moved onto the last figure, still lying crumpled between the stairs and living area. There was a small pool of blood originating from where he had cracked his head against the counter; again, no pulse or heartbeat.

Three dead.

Duo breathed in, then out. In and out, one more time.

_The war was over._

“Fuck,” Duo muttered under his breath. _Should I move them?_ He wondered, glancing between the bodies. This was technically a crime scene, and as a responsible citizen, he should be reporting to the authorities. _Is this still self-defense?_ Duo didn’t think self-defense worked to cover three dead bodies.

Duo’s eyes fell on the sticks. He picked up the one belonging to the man by the stairs, rolling it between his fingers experimentally. It looked just like a well-polished stick; no switches, buttons, nothing at all to indicate someone hadn’t just broken it off from a tree and polished it. Glancing between the stick and the robed figures, Duo frowned. What kind of cult has laser sticks?

The braided teen gave the stick an experimental wave, similar to the way he’d seen the men do. It abruptly exploded into cinders in his hand, splinters lodging into Duo’s palm and fingers as the rest scattered about the floor.

_“Fucking hell!”_ Duo yelped, dropping what was left of the handle to the ground. He stared from the ruin to his own smarting appendage, scowling – that had _hurt_. Was the damn thing operated on _biometrics_ and geared to explode when someone else handled it? Even those deranged scientists hadn’t managed that yet!

Pulling out the splinters, Duo ignored the light bleeding in favor of picking up the rest of the wooden weapons, leaving them atop the island counter. Stepping carefully around the two bodies in the kitchenette, he shifted through the pots and pans on the floor until he found his Glock, lodged under the large frying pan.

Duo first needed to find where they’d put the EMP and disable it, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to use the phone – landline or cell. _Preventers or local authorities?_ Duo wondered. He was mildly surprised the sound of gunshots hadn’t earned the attention of the cops yet. He should report to Preventers himself first though; they’d be called in eventually anyway, once the police tried looking him up and found all of his personal files locked under top security clearance.

Duo stilled.

_“-the anti-apparition wards are still up!”_

The voices were quiet, hushed murmurs that Duo could barely glean through the door. He crouched down so that the island counter hid his figure, creeping past the corpses to better peer around the corner of the kitchenette. He couldn’t see out the windows from this angle, but an uncomfortable feeling settled over his skin as he watched the doorknob slowly turn, reminiscent of the way the blue shield had stung at his fingertips. The door swung open silently, abnormal because Duo knew of its creaky hinges.

Remus Lupin stood in the doorway.

Duo’s grip on his firearm tightened, the only physical marker of the strain that crept over him. The man wasn’t wearing his customary khaki and white button-up combo; instead he wore a tired brown robe, patched in some places that was visibly illuminated by the moonlight. He was also holding a stick similar to Duo’s fallen assailants, slightly different in figure but recognizable for its polished gleam.

_Of fucking course,_ Duo thought. It only figured that the one blood relative Duo had was part of a cult and wanted to kill him. _At least he’s not wearing a stupid mask._

Lupin stepped fully into the room, waving the stick around – a beam of white light shot out from it, hitting the overhead lights and they burst back into life, the rest of the assorted light fixtures and lamps following suit. Duo pulled himself back behind the counter, silent with his gun at the ready.

There was a sharp intake of breath – Lupin had seen the corpse of the man the other two had called Selwyn. Soft footfalls clued Duo in that Lupin was not alone, and he tried to gauge the number present through sound alone. _Four- No, five, someone was walking with an awkward limp,_ Duo mused. They weren’t making much noise, their words falling silent as they entered the cottage.

“Is that…“ a woman’s voice began tentatively, the sound of her footsteps drawing closer.

_“Tonks!”_ came a sharp growl. “Don’t move!”

“Alastor?” came the inquiry in a deep baritone.

“Lupin,” that sharp voice called out. “Your son – he has a long braid?”

“Y-Yes,” Lupin stuttered out hollowly.

“He’s in the kitchen,” the man said. “And he’s holding a Muggle weapon.”

Duo tensed. There was no way anyone had seen him – he’d hidden before they even entered the cottage, and the one window that looked into the kitchenette was in a different direction from the door they’d entered.

_What does Muggle mean?_ “Do you have fucking X-ray vision?” Duo grumbled under his breath.

“…Duo?” Lupin breathed out in a hopeful tone of voice.

There was no point in hiding if they already knew his location. Duo slowly stood up, first peering over the kitchen counter to get a better look at the room’s occupants: Lupin stood between the door and Gibbon’s body, a young woman with a mop of violently pink hair at his shoulder, a tall black male was stationed by the open front door and next to a grizzled man with an eyepatch where a large, electric blue eye swiveled unnaturally, and lastly was the regal looking woman donned in a green shawl near the loveseat.

“It’s rude to just barge into someone’s place, y’know,” Duo stated lightly.

Everyone stared at him.

“Was he Confunded?” the pink-haired woman asked in a bemusement.

The half-second that everyone glanced at her as she spoke was what Duo had been after, though, and he raised the gun up from where he’d been holding it under the counter and out of view. _Non-fatal wounds,_ Duo had to remind himself. Three bodies he could explain, but eight-

A jet of red light hit his hand, the gun flying out of his grasp and landing by the dining table.  Duo ducked back under the counter, glancing at his hand; it didn’t hurt, hardly tingled really, but when the red laser had hit it, it was as if the gun had been _ripped_ from his fingers. What kind of laser could do that?

“Moody!” Lupin snapped out.

“He was intending to do something with that Muggle weapon,” came the fierce response.

“A _what_ weapon _?_!” Duo hollered back in offense, scanning the area. He still had another pocketknife tucked into his other boot, there were metals pans and pots still on the floor, a knife rack on the other side of the refrigerator, and the exploding laser sticks he’d left on the island counter.

“Duo, wait, calm down and let me explain,” Lupin began, and Duo could hear him as the man moved slowly closer. The teen pulled out the knife from his boot, turning and going into a crouched position, waiting for Lupin to come into full view.

“Lupin, he’s got a knife,” said that same grizzled man.

They weren’t holding any scanners or the like, Duo recalled, cold and methodical. They had those sticks, but nothing that could be a screen. Whatever that man was using to see Duo, it didn’t have a traditional screen, which meant he was using something that only he had a connection to.

_The eye,_ Duo realized. It was big and awkward in that scarred face, and it moved autonomously – not at all in synch with its beady, natural counterpart. _Change of plans then._

“Duo,” Lupin’s voice was gentle, the same kind of tone a person used when confronting scared children or feral animals. “We’re here to help. Those people in the masks, they’re not-“

Lupin came into full view with slow and deliberate steps. If Duo really had been the frightened teenager they so clearly thought he was, he would have surely been lulled into a false sense of security by the man’s calming tones.

What they got instead was Duo lunging forward, only he used his left shoulder to ram Lupin back and into the wall. It was a tactic meant to stall and surprise, ultimately harmless aside for the bruise Lupin would probably get on his chest.

It was enough, because the one it was meant to distract had his eye on Duo’s left side where his body connected with Lupin’s – not on Duo’s right, where his hand had flicked forward, sending his pocketknife straight towards the face of the grizzled man with deadly precision.

Duo watched in shock as the knife stopped just before striking true, hovering momentarily in front of the whirring blue eye, and then dropping to the floor.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Duo muttered. Lupin, still pressed against the wall, had gotten a grip on Duo’s arm in his moment of distraction, but Duo was honestly too surprised by the failure of the knife plan to do anything about it.

“Did he just throw a knife?!” the woman in the green shawl squeaked out.

In lieu of answering, the man with the false eye shot a bolt of red at him. Duo tried to jerk out of Lupin’s hold but the man was surprisingly strong, especially given that sickly frame. The red laser hit him in the side, sending him sprawling back onto the floor and out of Lupin’s hold. His eyes closed against his will, but Duo absolutely refused to fall into unconsciousness; it was like a sedative had been pumped into his system.

“-orry, Lupin, but he’s violent and high-strung.”

“Never thought I’d hear Moody call someone else ‘violent and high strung’,” a female voice muttered audibly. Duo didn’t move from his crumpled position on the floor, listening to the sound of their footsteps as the others moved around him. He was outnumbered and without a weapon, and his opponents were using some kind of weapon that used lasers of varying levels of intensity. Duo knew his top priority now was to escape.

“He was attacked by _Death Eaters_ , Moody,” Lupin said, voice biting. “If you’d just let me explain to him-“

“Before or after he stabbed you?” retorted one of the women.

“The Death Eaters are dead,” the black male spoke up from where Duo gauged was the kitchenette. “…he slit Rowle’s throat.”

“Lupin, get him out of here,” the grizzled male ordered.

A sigh came from over Duo’s prone body. Duo could hear one member of the group moving around in the kitchenette, and two others had gone up the stairs. Lupin was presumably the one hovering over him, which left only the grizzled man somewhere by the front door.

_No better chance than now,_ Duo knew.

He snapped his eyes open, catching sight of Lupin mid-wave of his stick. The man’s amber eyes widened at the sight of Duo’s open eyes, but before he could say anything, Duo kicked out and struck him in the shin. Lupin buckled and Duo leapt to his feet, knocking Lupin aside as he dashed by him.

Just as expected, the grizzled man Duo thought they had been referring to as ‘Moody’ was by the door. His stick was already out and pointed in Duo’s direction, but Duo could easily discern the trajectory of any laser that burst out of it, sidestepping even as he continued his surge forward.

_“Stupefy!”_

A red bolt of light struck him in the back. Duo stumbled briefly but caught himself on his next step, continuing forward. Whatever that red light was, its sedative effects weren’t effective; as long as he powered through its initial stage, it dissipated quickly.

“ _Wha-_ He’s _immune_ to being stunned?!” one of the women cried out.

Duo didn’t slow down. Instinctively, he scanned the man between him and the exit; the weakest points when attacking men were the face, the chest, and the groin. His knife had not been able to strike the man’s eyes, which meant it was possible they were using the same shielding device that the masked man had used, but Duo didn’t have the time to stab his way through it. He just needed to get around him; incapacitation was preferred but not necessary.

“Duo, _stop!”_ Lupin shouted from behind him.

Moody slashed his stick through the air, sending a jet of blue light out. Duo moved around it, never stopping his forward momentum, one hand reaching out to feel the air around the man. If the shielding device was activated, he should be able to physically meet it, but nothing but air met his outstretched fingers.

“I don’t want to hurt you, boy!” Moody snapped.

Duo’s grin was wide and maniacal. “I don’t care,” he replied with a laugh.

Then Duo’s right hand lashed forward, no hesitation in his movements as his fingers slid past flesh and sclera. His fingers burned as he pushed them into the Moody’s skull, something sharp sending spikes of pain into the tips, but Duo didn’t stop, fingernails scraping to get a handle on what rested in Duo’s palm. Duo yanked his hand back, marbled white and blue cradled in his appendage, the sharp sparks of what seemed to be the energy used by his assailants dissipating in a drifting line from what Duo held up to Moody’s now-empty eye socket.

_“MOODY!”_

“DUO, _NO!”_

Three jets of red light hit Duo square in the back. The sheer force of it caused him to stagger forward, but the man he’d just mutilated had one hand covering his wound and the other pointing his stick in Duo’s direction, a fourth beam of red light striking Duo in the chest.

_Fuck!_ Duo thought desperately, even as his body gave up on him – he stumbled a couple steps back, the sedative effect of the lasers causing numbness to spread out from where they’d hit. Another series of red lights came at him once more, but Duo could do nothing as his body collapsed from underneath him and he fell back into someone’s arms.

_No!_

Darkness claimed his vision, and Duo knew no more.

 

* * *

 

Thousands of miles away, blue eyes snapped open as Quatre Winner sat up in his bed, one hand clenched over the vicinity of his heart.

“…Duo?”

 

* * *

  **End Chapter 5**

* * *

  **A/N** : Yay~ The Order is here~!

_Story Notes:_

_-Newtype Levels:_

Preventers have sorted Newtypes into three categories, where Level Three are considered the weakest, up to Level One as the strongest. In comparison to the wizarding world, Level Threes are like squibs (low magical energy) and Level Twos and Ones are more similar to traditional wizards and witches. The stronger the magical energy, the higher the level. Preventers doesn’t have a magical energy measuring system (lol), but there’s a noticeable ability difference between someone like Agent Papillon (a Level Two) and Wufei (a Level One).

_-Family Reconstruction Act:_

A reader brought up a point on the FRA, which made me realize I must have been to vague on how the FRA worked in this story! Sorry for the any confusion, everyone. So:

The way the FRA system works here isn't so much as a "here, I found a kid that's related to you, they're yours now lmao," it's more like those services that trace your family tree: they find your relatives and inform you of them. Preventers figured that they could let possible guardians for any of the orphaned kids know there was a kid in need that they had a blood connection to. (It'd be harder to find guardians not related by blood because documents tend to get lost.) It’s not an Earth family-colony orphan match; given the population breakdown, it's far more likely a match will be made between space colonists, rather than ESUN citizen-space colonist. But because the FRA is more a family tree than an adoption service, there are no incentives or monetary compensation. The FRA service only mediates prior to the actual meeting, and even then, it only forwards itineraries and requests after finding a match. Any relative contacted by the FRA system regarding a minor in need of a home has the choice to decline taking responsibility of the minor. Preventers is hopeful that any person contacted about a child in need will step up - but the reality is the adult relative may not have the resources to take care of a child. The Preventers in this story are much, much bigger than their canon counterpart, with a lot more sway - but they can only enforce taking part in the FRA, not pushing children onto people who may not be able to take care of them.

 But anyway, thank you for reading!

_Please be kind and d **rop a review/kudos! :)**_

 


	6. Twelve Hours

**A/N** : Thank you for your comments/kudos!

**Disclaimer** : I do not own _Gundam Wing_ or _Harry Potter_.

* * *

  **Chapter 6** _  
_

_Twelve Hours_

* * *

 

-..-

-..-

-..-

\--.

WFhYRw0KDQoNCg==

_Decoding…_

QUxQSEENCg0KDQo=

_Decoding…_

**ALPHA**.

_Decoding…_

_Decoding…_

XXXG-04: 02, status request.

-..-

-..-

-..-

\--.

* * *

Landing deftly on the doorstep of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, Remus didn’t even think much of it as his magic slammed open the front door, and he stepped inside amidst the hollering emanating from the portrait of Walburga Black. He adjusted his hold on the prone body in his arms; even as nothing but dead-weight, Duo was distressingly light. And yet…

Moody’s blood-caked face came to the forefront of his mind.

Sirius came thundering down the stairs, glancing over the foyer in assessment before working on shutting the curtains. Remus didn’t pay him any mind, focused on getting to his intended destination and doing what needed to be done.

“Moony- What-“ Sirius panted out as Remus moved past him.

Remus shook his head. “Leave her, Sirius,” he said. The portrait's annoying screams were not his priority right now and he was working on a time limit. Duo had a resistance to stunners – something Remus didn’t think was even possible. “Come with me.”

Sirius was supposed to have set up a guest room for Duo on the second floor while they went to retrieve the boy. It had felt like a lifetime ago now: Severus Snape flooing into the Grimmauld Place kitchen and earning the attention of the small number of Order members present, only to report that Death Eaters had gotten wind of Remus’s newfound son. Remus had told only Sirius and Dumbledore about Duo, which meant the Dark Lord’s followers had somehow found out, possibly by tailing him unseen. It was likely they planned to attack Duo. Snape had not known when or where, but theorized they’d strike in a moment of vulnerability: possibly when Duo was en-route back home so as to not alarm the Order.

Dumbledore was currently occupied with a meeting at the Ministry, and with the Headmaster’s current relationship to the British Ministry of Magic, it was hard to reach out to him for such a quickly-developing situation. Moody, present at Grimmauld Place at the time, had taken over: they’d collect Duo now and bring him to headquarters, where he would stay until they could safely smuggle him out of the country (and preferably, up to the star colonies). The Order members present at the time had been Moody, Sirius, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Nymphadora Tonks, Emmeline Vance, and Remus himself. Sirius had been stopped from coming with them, given that his mugshot had been spread to the Muggle world and thus Duo may be able to recognize him as an escaped convict, and they wanted the transition to go as smoothly as possible.

They hadn’t thought the Death Eaters would move so quickly. Remus had shared the location of Duo’s rental cottage with the other Order members and they planned to apparate directly to its doorstep. When they’d apparated, however, they were bounced off-course by the anti-apparition wards set up around the cottage; wards that had not been present when Remus had escorted Duo back to the cottage earlier in the day.

Anti-apparition wards, or magic wards of any sort, tended to mess with the electronics of the home they covered unless the appliances had already been charmed to withstand it. So when Remus met with anti-apparition wards and then saw the darkened windows of Duo’s rental cottage, he thought his heart would stop.

Only a couple of more days, and then Duo would be on his way out of Britain and away from danger. But as always, Remus had failed to protect someone important to him, and Duo had paid the price.

Then Remus had seen the body of the Death Eater.

“The room across from mine,” Sirius said from behind him.

It was one of the smaller rooms in Grimmauld Place, but Sirius had cleaned it up nicely given that he had so much time to spend in his home. It was rather bare, thankfully, a single blue velvet armchair pushed into the corner and a canopy bed with a dark wood frame and royal blue bedcovers. The walls were of a matching color; Sirius must have stripped off the wallpaper, which Remus was thankful because magical wallpapers tended to favor moving pictures, which would only alarm the boy in his arms.

Remus set Duo down atop the bedcovers. The boy appeared to still be out cold, but then again, he had taken seven stunners. Did taking that number of stunning spells leave lasting damage?

“What happened? Where are the others?” Sirius asked.

Duo looked absolutely tiny lying atop the bed. How could a boy so small do what he had done?

“Death Eaters were there,” Remus said, voice hushed. His hands were trembling as he brushed bangs out of Duo’s closed eyes. Sirius cursed behind him but Remus ignored that, instead reaching to behind Duo’s neck to unbutton the priest collar wrapped around his son’s throat. He cast a quick examination spell, checking for any spell damage or internal physical injuries – nothing. "But they’re dead now.”

“Good,” Sirius bit out. He paused as he finally noticed exactly what Remus was doing: stripping Duo down. The black button-up smelled of blood but Remus couldn’t think about that now, Kingsley’s words about Rowle’s condition ghosting through his mind.

“Duo killed them,” Remus continued on. A simple silver cross hung from Duo’s neck but the examination spell found nothing odd about it; Remus carefully unclasped it and set it to the side. The white undershirt made the bloodstains more apparent but it was a light splatter, a clear marker none of it was from Duo. Remus used his wand to cut off the shirt, unwilling to jostle the teen more than necessary. “Three Death Eaters, and he killed them by himself.”

Remus paused, eyes drawn to his son’s bare chest. He was littered with scars: both long and short, thick and thin, round and narrow. Some looked older than others, a map of Duo’s history Remus could not understand because it just didn’t make sense. It was as if someone had _tortured_ his child.

_“Merlin,”_ Sirius breathed beside him, blue eyes fastened on Duo’s scarred form.

Time was ticking. Remus glanced at his friend. “Do you have something he can wear? I…have to get him out of these clothes,” he explained softly. He’d check for charms or Dark spells that may have been put on the clothes, some way to explain how Duo was able to resist the effects of stunning spells until they came at him with the ferocity of an army.

“…maybe some of Regulus’s clothes,” Sirius said, edging away. “They might be a bit big but…let me see.”

Sirius jogged out of the room, and Remus turned back to the slight teen on the bed. He pulled off the boots carefully, then the socks. He set the belt and black trousers to the side with the shirts and priest collar, then carefully worked his hands over every exposed patch of skin – feeling for anything unusual, any possible hidden injury Duo may have received that the spell may not have caught.

Nothing. His right hand was bruised, and there was another small bruise by his temple, but no broken bones or the like. Remus turned to the pile of clothes on the bed, casting another quick examination spell – again, nothing. They seemed to be regular clothes. Sirius returned with dark blue pajamas, which Remus took from him and then dressed Duo.

“…you said he was a Muggle,” Sirius said quietly.

Remus finished the last button on Duo’s pajama shirt. “I thought he was,” Remus answered, equally soft. But Muggles didn’t overpower and kill Death Eaters, weren’t immune to stunning spells, didn’t rip Moody’s magically-enhanced prosthetic eye from his face.

Remus stared down at the unconscious form of his son.

There was no other way.

With a flick of his wand, ropes soared from the tip and bound Duo’s wrists to the headboard. Sirius made a startled noise next to him but Remus only checked to make sure the bindings were secure. _Should I bind his legs too?_ Remus wondered. But it wasn’t like Duo could untie his bindings with his toes, so Remus felt he didn’t have to go that far.

“…Remus.”

Remus glanced over to the door. Kingsley stood at the entrance, eyes moving from the two wizards to the silent and bound teen on the bedcovers. Remus turned and picked up Duo’s belongings; although the preliminary check was clear, he’d examine them again under more intense examination spells just in case. It was better to be safe than sorry.

“How is Moody?” Remus asked.

Sirius’s head swiveled to pin Remus with a wide-eyed look. “You said the Death Eaters were dead!” he hissed.

“Alastor will be fine,” Kingsley replied to Remus, voice a reliable calm. “He reinserted his eye after getting the initial injury healed. He- Your boy, he didn’t use any magic to do it.”

“To do what?” Sirius demanded.

Remus turned away, hands fisted into Duo’s belongings. “Duo… He was scared. He must have thought we were the same as the Death Eaters, he- he attacked us and tried to run,” he explained in a low voice.

Kingsley inclined his head in agreement. “He ripped out Moody’s eye,” he said, indicating to his own where Moody’s prosthetic eye would have been. Sirius’s expression slackened into an overt gape. “It took seven Stunners to bring him down.”

“I’ll explain what I can to Duo when he’s awake,” Remus said after a moment.

Kingsley nodded. “It’d be best if he heard it from you. Do those belong to him?” he asked, gesturing to the bundle Remus held.

“Yes, I was going to examine them for any…enchantments,” Remus explained.

“I can do that. It’d be better if you stayed here with him,” Kingsley said. Remus handled over Duo’s belongings to the Auror with a grim look. With a small sigh, he turned back to Sirius – who was now staring over at Duo’s unconscious form like he’d never seen anything quite like him before.

“I’m going to wake him,” Remus started, moving back over to Duo’s bedside. “It’s… We should be alone. I don’t want him to feel threatened by outnumbering him.”

Sirius stared at him. “He killed three Death Eaters and mauled Mad-Eye with his bare hands, Moony, I don’t think we’re much of a threat,” he retorted hollowly. Remus could hear Kingsley’s snort of as he turned and left. Remus shot a chiding look at his best friend in the Auror’s absence.

Sirius held up his hands in mock-defeat, moving away and towards the door. “Alright, I’ll be downstairs,” he conceded. Sirius paused in the doorway, glancing back to give Remus a grin. “By the way, Moony – are you sure he’s your kid? He’s way too pretty to be related to _your_ ugly mug.”

“ _Get out_ , Sirius.”

Sirius’s barking laughter was cut off as he shut the door behind him. Remus turned his attention back to his son, waving over the armchair so that he could take a seat, eyes never leaving the boy on the bed.

He was only sixteen.

“ _Ennervate_.”

Duo didn’t react. His breathing was steady, uninterrupted, but his eyelids did not even twitch. Remus tensed, rising from his seat so that he had a better vantage point, and tried the spell once more – nothing.

_Could he be immune to all magic?_ But that didn’t make sense; Duo showed a resistance to stunners but he’d eventually gone under after getting hit by many. It was possible that the number of stunners had inundated the boy’s body, perhaps making it difficult to reawaken him with only one spellcaster’s magic.

“Duo, please…” Remus started weakly. What could he do now? Keep casting ‘ennervate’ until the boy woke up? How was it even possible that magic affected Duo in such a strange way? _“Ennervate. ...Ennervate. Ennervate!”_

There was no change, the steady rise and fall of Duo’s chest the only indication he was even alive. Remus’s hands trembled at the implications. Remus moved closer, leaning over the slight figure, reaching forward to pull back one eyelid to get a better look at those violet eyes he’d been getting to know. It was possible the sheer number of stunning spells Duo had endured had rendered him into a coma, and whatever strange magic the boy had been using to remain resistant to their spells was another factor that complicated matters.

One hand grabbed him by his wrist, and all Remus saw was violet eyes snapping open before he was jerked forward to meet Duo’s oncoming fist. The blow whited out his vision for a short moment, body falling back and to the floor with an audible thump. Remus tried to wait out the disorientation but was given no reprieve; Duo had pinned him to the ground, hands wrapped around his throat.

Remus opened his mouth to say something, anything – but no air could pass into his throat and he jerked violently. Despite his delicate frame, however, Duo was unmoving as he strangled his own father with his lips pulled back into a vicious snarl.

It was there, looking up into cold violet eyes, Remus realized several things in short order: one, Duo was still disoriented - his eyes were unfocused as if he were still waking from a deep sleep. Two, Duo’s body on autopilot prompted him into violence. Three, _Duo was going to kill him if this continued_.

The bedroom door opened just as black dots started to encroach on Remus’s vision, and the next thing he knew, Duo was thrown backwards off him and up into the air, a wordless levitation charm leaving him suspended mid-air.

“You _motherfucker-!”_ Duo snapped out. His words were pure vitriol but his movements were strangely coordinated, as if he were trying to catch his equilibrium without gravity at his disposal.

“…I take it the talk didn’t go well.”

Remus picked himself up off the floor, coughing roughly as his body greedily took in the air it had been denied. Sirius was at his side instantly, helping him to his feet, but the dog Animagus was not the one who had spoken – that was Dumbledore, wand still out and pointed at Remus’s son. The sight of the wizened headmaster had Duo going quiet even as he hovered in the air, the boy's bewildered expression almost relieving to Remus because it was the only non-hostile expression he’d seen on Duo’s face in the past few hours.

“Holy shit, this cult has it all,” came out of Duo’s mouth, tone jarringly mocking given his previous behavior. “Laser sticks, shitty opera Phantoms, and now Merlin. What the fuck are you guys _smoking?”_

Sirius’s head whipped around, cloudy expression momentarily dropping in favor of his surprise. “You know about Merlin?” the dog Animagus wheezed out.

Duo tore his eyes away from the Headmaster, glancing over in Sirius's direction. “And whatever _you’re_ taking, you need to stop. You’re one crack line away from working the street corner,” Duo said, voice taking on a perplexingly glib tone. “I hate to be the one to say it, man, but I really don’t think you’re to anyone’s tastes.”

Sirius blinked. “Moony, I think your son just called me a whore,” he muttered, half-crouched over his fellow Marauder. He sounded like he couldn't believe he was having this conversation, but at this point, Remus couldn't shake how surreal it was. Duo was acting far too candid for someone who had reacted so hostile in the past few hours.

“If we’re going to be accurate,” Remus managed out hoarsely. “He called you an unattractive prostitute with a drug problem.”

Dumbledore stepped fully into the room now, although he made no move to release Duo from the levitation charm. Duo glanced over the three of them but didn’t seem bothered at all by his free floating, managing to pull himself into a cross-legged seated position. This was another indication that something just wasn't quite right with the boy, some animal instinct in Remus warning him that his own son was a present danger. A normal teen didn't get apprehended by strangers and then idled around while being held at wandpoint.

“I think we can safely rule out the Imperius Curse, as well as Polyjuice Potion given the time,” Dumbledore began, conjuring a second armchair for himself. Duo made no noise at the sudden display of magic but he went very still, violet eyes unblinkingly locked on the suddenly existent piece of furniture and the man who occupied it. Sirius led Remus back over to the armchair by the bed, although the ex-convict remained standing between Remus and the floating Duo.

“I didn’t have time to explain anything to him, Headmaster,” Remus interjected. Duo made a low choking noise at the title, earning a speculative look from the two Marauders.

Dumbledore’s expression turned considering. “Then explanations are long overdue. As well as apologies,” he said, with a firm glance in Duo’s direction. “For all actions taken this night.”

Duo’s wide-eyed expression was soon replaced by a slow-growing smile. “How is Discount Captain Kidd? I think it’ll be fine if you give that sucker a good wax and then just pop it back in.”

Dumbledore’s gaze was foreboding. Duo’s grin was maddening.

“Duo, we’re not here to hurt you,” Remus managed out, fingers massaging at his own throat. It hurt to even talk but he needed to get the words out before things escalated further. Duo’s eyes flitted over to him, and for just a second, Remus thought he saw something colder than a Dementor’s presence in his son’s eyes.

“Right,” Duo nodded in agreement, expression amiable but painfully insincere. “You’re here to _help_ me.”

Remus blinked. “I- Well, yes-“

“Awesome. So how does this work?” Duo interrupted brightly. “You got some spirit stones? Healing juice? I ain’t picky but if Merlin here is in any way involved in the juice making, I might start to have second thoughts.”

Remus blanched.

“Juice?” Sirius echoed in confusion.

“There’s no juice! Duo, this isn’t a _cult_ ,” Remus said.

Duo gave Remus a plainly disbelieving look as he pointed at Dumbledore. “Oh, so this is just an insanely-dedicated LARP club, then? Is there paperwork involved? I hope there’s a villainous song being sung when I write my name on the dotted line, otherwise you’re wasting all your potential.”

Sirius was looking at Duo as if he’d never seen anything quite like him, which given Sirius’s history, said a lot about Duo. “Definitely not Imperius,” the dog Animagus murmured.

Duo was now rocking backwards and forwards, a small frown marring his lips. His eyes were glancing around the room, notably lingering under their feet. “Never seen an anti-gravity chamber like this...” he was muttering lowly. It seemed almost like Duo was expecting to flip over but the levitation charm kept him upright.

Whatever Duo may think of them, he surely understood his own situation: he was outnumbered and held captive, however benignly, by the people in the room. And yet here he was, sarcasm dripping from his voice and absurdly candid in his reactions. It was disconcerting how easily Duo interacted with them, not at all perturbed by their earlier interactions. Duo had killed people, had mutilated Moody, had been rendered unconscious and then taken to an unknown location. Never mind his snappy remarks, Duo should be overtly panicking - but instead he was making jokes while taking in his surroundings.

There were too many things off about Duo. His abilities, his reactions, his hostility and violence, his thin body marred with scars; it was a complete antithesis to the boy Remus had thought he'd known earlier in the week.

There was no wolf in Duo - but there was something else. Remus just didn't know what.

“Mr. Maxwell,” Dumbledore started efficiently. “I’d like to have this conversation in a civilized manner, perhaps over a cup of tea, if you’re amenable?”

“I take mine with sugar,” Duo told the man blithely.

Dumbledore weighed the words, recognizing Duo’s attitude for what it was – a distraction. Remus understood the man’s hesitance; twice within the past few hours, Duo had attacked Order members and had to be magically restrained from doing further damage. If this had been anyone but Duo, Remus would have argued for more control measures.

But this wasn’t.

“Duo, we’re not going to hurt you,” Remus said. “We’ll explain everything – about the men that attacked you and why they did. Please…no more violence.”

Duo went quiet, eyes stalled on Remus’s pleading expression. His lack of expression was one of the most frightening things Remus had ever seen; Duo was such a naturally expressive person that when his face went cold, Remus could easily recall that this was the same person who had gouged out Moody’s eye.

“Momentary truce then?” Duo mused, smile back on his face. _A fake smile_ , Remus recognized that now. Had Duo ever shown him anything sincere? The idea that his son hadn’t sent a spike directly to Remus’s heart.

Dumbledore nodded in agreement, lowering Duo back to the ground. Duo’s eyes fastened onto the man’s outstretched wand, eyebrows climbing. It was one of the most understated reactions to magic Remus had ever seen, but considering Duo had killed three wizards, mutilated one former Auror, and nearly strangled a werewolf without sustaining much damage himself – perhaps wands were considered archaic to Newtypes.

“Are you gonna tell me how you guys do that?” Duo asked, indicating to Dumbledore’s wand.

Sirius glanced at him, expression bemused. “What do you mean? It was just a simple levitation charm,” he pointed out.

“A what?” Duo stared.

“Do you Newtypes not have levitation charms?” Sirius asked.

Duo stared at the ex-convict, then turned violet eyes on Remus. “He’s speaking English, right?” the braided boy demanded. “I swear to god, I don’t know what you guys are saying half the fucking time, and English is my native tongue!”

“...Mr. Maxwell,” Dumbledore started with a barely-detectable tone of surprise coloring his words. “We’re wizards.”

The boy’s full-body pause set off Remus’s internal alarm bells. “What?” Duo uttered weakly, clear shock making it more a statement than a question.

“Duo,” Remus said with wide eyes. “You- You do know magic is _real_ , right?”

Duo’s flabbergasted expression was so real that Remus couldn’t even laugh at it.

 

* * *

 

_AC 196 July 20_

 

The melody started haunting. It was the only way Heero thought to describe it; it brought up some distant feeling, like a mission in the early morning hours, like planting explosives beneath the bunks of unsuspecting soldiers. It was the feeling of mourning before having something to mourn, unsettling but visceral.

Eleven hours and 53 minutes.

Then the tune changed, abrupt and scattering. It took to a run, a playful glide, the feeling of sand under his feet and the smell of the sea in the air. It reminded Heero of a beach long past, of his first taste of tropical fruit, of the feeling of the world suddenly being so much larger than just his narrow view of its battlefields.

Eleven hours and 55 minutes.

The music dropped once more into somber. Heero tasted the blood in his throat then, smelled the gunpowder in the air, felt the burn of the flame because he’d tried to touch. He remembered Sylvia Noventa aiming the gun, recalled the way the tears had seeped into her lashes but still, even then with shaking fingers – she did not pull the trigger. So unlike Heero, who had pulled the trigger countless times, who had pressed the button to set off the explosives, who had operated death in the form of machinery – and still his fingers had never once shaken.

Eleven hours and 57 minutes.

The music spiked into a faster pace, a harried tone in contrast to the prior solemnity. Discordant and beautiful, jarring and vibrant and sweet: Duo, beaten and broken and smiling, rising on trembling legs and asking if Heero really was going to kill him; Duo, stitching up a gash, nearly breathless with laughter as he tries to finish telling Heero some dirty joke he’d heard from one of the Sweepers; Duo, underneath him, one hand clawing at his back to pull Heero closer, the other interlocked with Heero’s own.

Eleven hours and 58 minutes.

The score ends with two final, disparate notes. Heero’s eyes move away from the screen of his laptop and the quiet messaging system he’d been keeping watch on for hours now, focusing on the slender form of his friend as the blonde relaxed from his position. Quatre moved over to the gray armchair where he’d left his violin case, reverently settling his instrument and bow back into their respective linings.

“Niccolo Paganini,” Quatre said in answer to Heero’s unspoken question. “ _Caprice for Solo Violin, Op. 1 No.4._ Sometimes I enjoy the emotions it evokes.”

“It’s nice,” Heero replied, voice neutral.

Quatre’s smile was fleeting as he shut the violin case.

Twelve hours.

Twelve hours - that was the allotted time limit given for the Alpha messaging system; an emergency messaging system the pilots only relied on to assess dire needs. If a reply did not come within 12 hours, the worst was assumed. Quatre would never have used it unless he had no choice, and so when Heero saw the Arab boy's message to their missing friend on it, he had sought the blonde out for more information.

Quatre's heart never lied.

“Start at L-2,” the blonde boy began. His voice had lost its wistful edge, replaced by the core of steel that had guided Quatre Raberba Winner into war. “03 will rendezvous with you at 02’s last known address.”

Heero did not ask Quatre if he was sure about this – because Heero knew Quatre, knew the boy would not dare infringe upon Duo’s need for time and space unless he absolutely believed it necessary.

And if Duo was hurt, or captured, or worse – then they would find him, one way or another.

 

* * *

  **End Chapter 6**

* * *

**A/N** : I headcanon Duo spends his time captured pissing off his captors. It would be an effective way to lull them into a false sense of security, and would have even worked on the Order if Duo hadn't already killed three people and mauled Moody.

 Story Notes

_\--Duo and Magic:_

Duo was actually awake after Remus cast the first 'ennervate' but was pretending to be unconscious to better assess the situation.

Thank you for reading!

_Please be kind and **drop a comment/kudos**!_ :)


	7. Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus attempts to get to know his son, and Duo almost lets him.  
> The pilots begin investigating, and they don't like what they're piecing together.

**A/N** : Thank you so much for your comments! It really encouraged me to get this chapter out. ✧٩(•́⌄•́๑)

**Disclaimer** : I do not own _Gundam Wing_ or _Harry Potter_.

* * *

  **Chapter 7**

_Hunt_

* * *

"Right, so," Duo started, fingers tapping against the tabletop without rhythm – the only visible sign of his agitation. His teacup – black tea with two teaspoons of sugar – had been drained in the preceding hour of long overdue explanation, and Lupin was eyeing it intently. "Just so I got this all down: you're wizards, and I don't mean like, pull-a-bunny-outta-the-hat birthday magicians, but legit wizards, with wands and robes and shit."

"We can turn the hat into a bunny, if you're that set on it," Black offered blandly.

Duo ignored him. "And wizards have been around since forever, but you live in secret 'cause of the whole witch trials thing and the popularity of burning you guys at the stake. I guess that does put a damper on your relationships," he acknowledged.

"A bit," Dumbledore agreed.

"And in your little wizard society, there are people that are _suuuper_ mad that people without magic exist. Mad enough to start their own little group to commit genocide," Duo recounted, counting off points on his fingers. "The group got so big and popular that they basically almost took over your society like a decade ago, went on hiatus for a bit, but then just last year they resurfaced."

_Magical Nazis_ , Duo mused to himself, still somewhat incredulous. Of all the issues to plague a world of magic, they'd decided on _ethnic genocide_.

Lupin refilled Duo's tea, adding the two teaspoons of sugar without mention.

Duo, once again, ignored this. "So you guys started your own club to counter theirs, and yours is like, _super secret_. But they still kinda know you guys are around, and so this group is responsible for those masked assholes that attacked me last night because they found out about me and Pops here," the braided boy finished, throwing a thumb in Lupin's direction. Lupin started at the off-hand label, clearly blindsided by how casually Duo referred to him as his father.

"That is a candid but accurate assessment of the current situation," Dumbledore allowed. "Your understanding is appreciated."

Duo's fingers continued their arrhythmic tapping. "Yeah, well, you know – it's important to be, uh, understanding of special circumstances," the boy said. He reached over his shoulder to tug his braid forward, playing with the end of it. "And magic being real sure does seem like a real fucking special circumstance."

Which brought up a whole other set of issues Duo had set on the backburner in the present moment. Sudden family relations were enough to chew on for anyone but adding on actual magic and wizards – Duo recognized he was more than just out of his depth now.

Naturally, as an active field agent, if he found himself struggling to keep his head above water, he called in support. Given Duo's _unique_ history and background, that normally meant one of the other Gundam pilots. That normally meant, first and foremost, Heero Yuy.

And wasn't that a _fucking riot?_

"Your safety is important as well, Duo," Lupin started, interrupting Duo's thoughts. "I-I never meant to get you involved in this. I'm so sorry."

Lupin was a really strange guy. Not because of how quickly he just got over Duo attacking him – Duo had put bullet holes in some of his closest friends, after all – but that he just seemed so apologetic over every little thing, even the ones he had no control over. Lupin clearly hadn't expected Duo to be a target in a wizard war, and yet he still acted like he had personally commanded the masked men to attack Duo.

"It is what it is," Duo waved off cheerfully. All three men stiffened at the glib reply, but Duo pretended not to notice that. Right now, he had to focus on what would happen from now on, especially in terms of where this left him standing in the midst of a brewing war. "So what happens now?"

Dumbledore had settled his teacup down on its little plate. "As I see it, we have two options available to us. The first is that you return to the star islands."

Duo's lips curled upwards at the moniker. "Let me guess – go home, kick back with a martini, and don't give another thought to you guys duking it out with The Dark Ones?"

Dumbledore nodded, despite the choked sounds both Lupin and Black made. "A crude way to put it but not inaccurate. Although I do think you're too young to consume alcohol legally, Mr. Maxwell," he replied.

"Duly noted," Duo grinned, tone careless but eyes keen. He'd always thrived in contradiction. "And you can call me Duo, none of that 'mister' stuff. What's the option that doesn't have me ignoring your descent into genocide, though?"

"It's not ignoring it, Duo," Lupin interrupted fiercely. "It's ensuring your safety."

Duo gave the man a slow, tolerant look. It's been years since someone tried to ensure his safety, and Duo wasn't sure he liked the feeling of his autonomy being limited in such a way. Lupin got points for effort, though.

"It would be wise not to ignore such a safe option. As you may be aware, wizards of the Earth Sphere cannot use in magic in space – the Dark Lord's followers will not follow you into the stars," Dumbledore explained, solemnity lining his words. "I can think of no greater safety than refuge back home, Duo."

That was another thing the men had brought up in their explanation of magic: the difference between earth-born wizards like themselves and colony-born wizards, known as Newtypes. Duo had had no idea what they were going on about at first, having never heard of Newtypes. They had assumed Duo was a Newtype given his resistance to their magic and upbringing in space, but Duo hadn't been able to deny or validate their claim. If Newtypes did exist among the space colonies, as the men seemed so sure that they did, then Duo had never come across them before, during, or after the war.

There were a couple probable reasons why Duo had never heard of Newtypes. One, he wasn't a Newtype and so whatever secret society thing Newtypes had going on, he wouldn't have been included. Two, Duo was a Newtype – but had yet to be discovered by other Newtypes, likely for war-related reasons. Duo knew he wasn't an easy guy to track, and the war had made a mess of whatever structure his colony home had clung to while he'd been living there.

But that second option led down a road of thinking Duo wasn't comfortable addressing, because if he was a Newtype – as the other three men at the table seemed so ardently to believe – then that meant Duo had been left largely ignorant of a significant part of his skill set. Just what could being a Newtype entail?

Duo could guess. Magic would explain some things about himself, especially from before Doctor G had gotten his hands on him and pumped enough chemicals and nanotech into his veins to give Sally Po pause during his medical visits. It was a miracle in and of itself that there was enough of what Duo was originally to even be matched to Remus Lupin in a paternity test.

"I can't just ignore it," Duo interjected.

"We're the ones that put you at risk, kid. You don't need to get involved in even more danger," Black spoke up. "This isn't your war."

That was the wizarding gig, apparently – they stay out of non-magical wars, and the so-called Muggles aren't involved in magical wars. Duo knew – intimately – that war was never so cleanly and neatly packed, knew it didn't stay in its little box to be dealt with by those considered involved. War didn't distinguish a difference between its victims, and it was laughable to even assume as such. It was a bitter thing to realize, that out of the four males present in the room – it was the youngest who understood this.

Lupin looked relieved that both men were essentially agreeing with him. Unfortunately for Lupin, Duo didn't base his decisions on just how safe they made him.

"War doesn't give a flying fuck if its yours or not," Duo returned evenly. "What's option two?"

There must have been something to his voice, as Lupin noticeably paled, recoiling slightly in his seat. Black winced, but Duo had his attention trained back onto Dumbledore. The wizened wizard was matching his stare, a solemn sadness to his countenance that Duo understood very well. He'd seen it often enough in Father Maxwell's eyes when he'd catch one of the other orphans waking up screaming.

"You are the child of a wizard of Magical Britain, which makes you a citizen here as well," Dumbledore began. Lupin's head swiveled to pin the man with a sharp look that went ignored. "And we have concluded you are magical, given your resistance to Stunning charms. As an underage citizen of Magical Britain, you can stay and attend Hogwarts."

Air got caught in Duo's throat and he started coughing to regain it. "Atte- HogWHAT?" he choked out.

"Headmaster!" Lupin snapped, voice low with disbelief.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, of which I currently preside over," Dumbledore replied to Duo before turning to Lupin. "These are the safest available options, and he's expressed a desire to know both. Unless you plan to force him to return to space, Remus?"

Duo was still stuck on another detail. "Your school is named _Hogwarts_? Like pig warts? Like you genuinely named your school after swine skin disfigurations?" he managed out. His mouth was trembling, unable to work out if it wanted to grin at the absurdity or gape for the same reason.

"Hogwarts is one of the finest wizarding institutions in the world," Dumbledore said.

Duo snorted. "Yeah, like you totally aren't biased," he muttered. Oddly, Dumbledore smiled at the remark rather than taking offense.

"Duo, you've already been attacked by Death Eaters!" Lupin finally burst. "What if next time, you aren't so lucky? You could be killed if you stay here!"

Duo's stare was unimpressed. "You think I survived that attack out of luck?" he asked. "And what, that that one guy slipped and slit his neck open on my knife accidentally?"

Black stiffened, dark eyes latching onto the teen. "You slit his neck?" came his hoarse echo. Black was a strange one, all things considered; he looked like he'd been picked up off the streets and put on a recovery regimen only recently. He reminded Duo of the drug addicts he'd find wandering the alleyways looking for a quick fix, minus the trembling. It was more the gaunt shadows lining the man's face, and the sometimes distant look in his eyes as his mind wandered away from the conversation at hand.

Duo didn't even know why Black was present for the conversation at all, hut humored him regardless. "He was gonna explode me with his stick-"

"Wand," Dumbledore corrected absently.

"-so I stopped him," Duo paused, adding with a casual shrug, "And his friends."

Lupin's stare was hard. "And you want to go through that again?" he demanded. "You'll be in danger. You'll likely be attacked – for no reason other than your blood. I can't guarantee your safety-"

"My safety has never been guaranteed," Duo cut in, voice deadly. The very sound of it drained the color from Lupin's face and the words stopped pouring from his lips. Duo didn't let that deter him; this was the root of Lupin's vehement disagreement, and Duo needed to take care of it.

"I'm not asking you for anything," Duo stated plainly, staring at Lupin. The man flinched minutely, and beside him, Black had straightened up, dark emotions fluttering over his face. "I don't know you. And what little I thought I knew about you was bullshit, considering you're fucking _magical_."

The pressure in the room was palpable, but Duo kept his eyes on Lupin. "You weren't there for the war, Lupin. Not the way I was. And war – it reaches everything. You can't keep me from it," Duo said.

"So you'll run headfirst into it?" Lupin grit out.

Duo cocked his head in thought. "I was attacked first. I've already been included," he pointed out. He clicked his tongue when Lupin made to argue that point, silencing the man before he could start. "You all seem to think I can just hole up in the colonies, but your ideal about those 'star islands' isn't the reality. You may not realize it – but this universe isn't as big as you seem to think."

Duo could no longer be confined to one space, not anymore. As a child, he'd thought he'd die on his colony's streets; as a teen, he'd crashed to earth, and then moved to sail the seas and stars. He could no longer ignore trouble in either the stars where he had been raised nor the soil upon which he had bled.

"A decision does not have to be made just yet," Dumbledore spoke up. "We have had a long day, and rest would do all of us some good."

The older man stood from his seat, eyes moving over the others present before settling on Duo. "You are, in the eyes of your government, your own person, Duo. You make your own decisions, and we can only caution you to make the ones we hope lead to good health and happiness. Please think over whether you are truly willing to stay in a place facing such troubled times."

Then, in a startling contrast to his solemn words, Dumbledore smiled at the youth. "You were correct in stating you do not know Remus, or us. But in the time we have been given, that is a situation that can be remedied, so long as we do not squander the opportunity," he advised.

The last part had not been meant for just Duo alone, and the boy could only watch in curiosity as Lupin's figure slowly straightened at the words.

Dumbledore left soon after, a flutter of robes and well-wishes that reminded Duo somewhat of Quatre, minus the sincerity only another Gundam pilot could discern in his friend's gentle countenance. There was a strategic strength to Dumbledore; he picked his battles carefully, understanding it was better to let Duo – and by extension, Remus Lupin – stew over the possibility of Duo's involvement in a magical society on the brink of war.

Duo thought it was almost laughable. Delving into a world of magic on behalf of a father he'd never known about, and the only sense of familiarity Duo would receive was the war part.

"In what way?"

Black's voice took Duo by surprise. Duo had almost thought Black had retreated back into himself again, but when he turned to look, the gaunt male was staring at Duo with an odd sort of concentration. The focus was there, so Black was in the present, which meant the question really was addressed to Duo.

"What?" Duo asked, blinking at him.

"You said you were there for the war but Remus wasn't," Black said.

Lupin was still seated at the table, a slump to his shoulders that was either exhaustion or defeat. "He meant the Muggle war, Sirius," he interjected tiredly.

"So in what way were you there for the Muggle war?" Black persisted. He wasn't as aggressive as he had been before, his words nearly cut and dry. No hostility, no disbelief – just an element of curiosity somewhere underneath the shadows.

Lupin's head turned to glare at his friend. "Sirius," he warned lowly.

"I was there for it," Duo began slowly. "In the only way you can be for war."

Black's stare was unblinking. "…how old were you?"

Duo showed a grin that was more a threat of teeth than a marker of goodwill. "What does that matter?" he laughed.

* * *

_AC 196 July 22_

L2-V08744 was one of the colonies of the L2 colony cluster that had been noted to be under 'Dire Need' in the months after the war had concluded, in need of the re-establishment of basic services and hefty reconstruction. The government of the colony itself had been completely dismantled in the lead up and throughout the course of the Eve Wars; it had been the site of some of the most brutal and bloody revolts of the colonies' stand against the Alliance. Even now, months after the end of the war, the scars of it were clearly visible everywhere one looked.

This was of no surprise to Heero – this was not his first time here, after all.

The street he currently walked was lined with apartment buildings on both sides; L2-V08744 adhered to the construction limitations of an older colony, the apartments themselves no taller than five stories. They were made of plaster and steel, as most were, but this particular stretch of road showed a populace no longer content with the factory-setting of their previous homes.

_Looks like a prison,_ Duo had told him once. White plaster on grey steel, the only difference between one place and the next being the people who occupied them.

Heero initially hadn't understood, but like always, the understanding came with time. Finding comfort in the familiar smell of Wufei's preferred brand of tea, in the sound of Quatre's violin, in the taste of Trowa's cooking, in the act of brushing through Duo's hair as it smelled of fresh shampoo. Plaster and steel weren't enough, and Heero had realized that viscerally after Duo had painted over the entirety of their shared apartment in different shades of blue.

Heero's favorite color was blue. It had taken him 15 years to discover that.

The apartments lining the road now were a kaleidoscope of colors: blues, yellows, oranges, reds and purples and greens. Some had brick patterns slapped haphazardly over their plastered beginnings, others had just painted over themselves wholesale. It was that time of day where windows were firmly shut and shuttered, as people were out and about; there were only a handful of people walking the street now, as this area in particular was more residential. Given the time, most people would be at work.

Even then, Heero still found himself hard-pressed to locate his friend – but then there was that sensation only his close friends had been able to invoke, a subtle prod at the base of his spine that was the only indication he was not alone.

Trowa Barton easily fell into step with him as he continued down the street.

Heero glanced to his side. The tall brunet boy had not changed much since Heero had last seen him, aside from the slight shadows under his eyes denoting his exhaustion. He seemed unperturbed as was his usual, and Heero found some sense of comfort in that. The revelation of Duo's disappearance had shaken them, but they had been trained too well to show it.

The only thing striking about Trowa now was the kitten poking its head out of his jacket pocket. It had yellowish fur and dark brown elongated spots, with dark ear tufts and reptilian yellow eyes. It was staring up at Heero silently, the only sign it was even alive being its small movements as it sought to get more comfortable in its confines.

Heero was not as knowledgeable about animals as his friend, but even he knew that what he was looking at was most assuredly not a cat.

"What is that?" Heero asked.

Trowa didn't even glance in Heero's direction. "A cat," he replied evenly.

"What kind of cat?"

"A good cat."

Heero distinctly remembered hearing a similar answer when Trowa was cuddling with the circus lions. This time was somehow even more concerning. Deciding to leave the matter alone – he trusted Trowa's judgment – the pair continued down the street.

Preventers mandated that all employees had an official home address and the former Gundam Pilots were no exception. It was generally not much of a concern, as Preventers provided housing or housing allowance, so there was no real question on where to send their mail or how to fill out their official documentation.

This didn't necessarily mean this was where you could actually find them. Heero, Trowa, and Wufei maintained official addresses in Brussels, close to the main Preventers branch on the Earth Sphere, but Trowa was usually with the travelling circus he favored in lieu of being an active duty Preventers agent, whereas Quatre owned far too many homes that he could live possibly everywhere. Duo and Heero had shared an address before he'd gone on sabbatical leave, wherein Duo had changed his official address to the small apartment in the L-2 colony cluster that he rented.

That was where Trowa and Heero were now headed. Heero had always known about the apartment; Duo had stayed there for a time before he'd decided to officially join Preventers, as it was close to the port the Scavengers operated out of and the junkyard Hilde Schbeiker still ran. Heero initially suspected this was where Duo had first went since the start of his 'sabbatical' but out of respect for the braided boy, Heero had not attempted to find out.

The apartment Duo rented out was owned by a hawk-eyed woman by the name of Magdalena Grey, who glowered at their Preventers-issued badges but dutifully opened the door to the second floor flat she kept.

"Don't know what yer 'specting ta find," she chewed out, pushing the code on the keypad. "He's hardly ever 'round but he pays the rent on time and don't cause no trouble. He does his own r'pairs too."

Neither male said anything. They could tell Duo had installed the lock himself, likely doing all the home improvements for free in order to earn the landlady's approval. It was the best method to ensure the neighbors didn't ask too many questions about the strange boy who was hardly ever home.

The apartment interior was as small as expected: a studio apartment cluttered with furniture. There was a fine layer of dust across most of the surfaces, evidence that Duo hadn't returned to the property in some time. There was an old TV atop a blue-green crate shoved into the corner, a mattress against the far wall, and a varied assortment of pictures stuck to the refrigerator with multicolored magnets.

The landlady watched as they went through the apartment, looking for some lead into Duo's whereabouts. Given the size and state, there wasn't much to go on – this would not bode well for their self-given mission. Duo was used to living a life off the grid, and certainly didn't leave a trail that just anybody could follow.

Heero considered the lumpy blanket left thrown atop the mattress. Preventers employed a Newtype from the L-3 colony cluster that had demonstrated the ability of tactile retrocognition; if Duo had made any plans while within the apartment, it was possible the agent could discern the former pilot's intentions. The only complication would be Duo's own Newtype abilities; as Duo so clearly wanted to hide, it was possible he could have unintentionally set up a sort of magic block that rendered the agent's ability useless in reading him. Still, it was better than nothing, which was looking to be the case if they only had this apartment to go by.

"Ya be wanting this back too?"

Heero turned to the grizzled woman, broken from his ruminations. She was holding out a stack of envelopes, clearly Duo's mail from over the course of the months he'd been gone. It wasn't much, as expected; Duo would have set up online notifications for most everything so that he could deal with it remotely, so only the occasional neighborhood flyer would have showed up.

The official Preventers envelope staring Heero right in the face was the surprise.

Heero took the stack from the woman, placing most of them down atop the coffee table with the exception of the first. Trowa, recognizing Heero's intense focus, moved closer to see what had earned the former pilot's attention.

"FRA," Trowa stated, his even tone hiding his shock.

Heero opened the envelope, hardly believing it himself. Duo was an orphan; he had no blood relations to claim, which was why he'd been raised on his colony's streets. Duo's lack of family was so wrapped into his character that his vengeance for the family he'd found and lost was what had driven him into war. If Duo had had family, he would have been with them during the colony revolts, during the Maxwell Church Massacre, during the failed Operation Meteor and the ensuing war. If Duo Maxwell had had family, he wouldn't have been Duo Maxwell.

So who was _Remus Lupin?_

* * *

The past couple of days were a learning experience Remus hadn't expected to go through at his age. He'd picked up small things here and there, for survival if nothing else – how to blend in among Muggles, how to integrate into the underground werewolf packs, learning the most advanced Defensive spells, so on and so forth – but this was the first time in a long while where he found himself desperately trying to understand something so profound and so very important.

And Duo was _very, very important._

Duo was not a prisoner at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, but Remus and Sirius tended to keep tabs on the boy regardless – if only because Sirius's family home wasn't quite safe. Duo was restricted from entering certain rooms, a provision set up so that he was not overwhelmed or taken by surprise. Remus had taken the initiative to magically lock some rooms, so that only he or Sirius could go through them easily, and also forbid Kreacher from ever being seen by Duo out of fear Duo may not respond well to the House Elf's palpable hostility.

Even so, it would be hard to miss Duo's habits even if they weren't watching him so closely.

One of the first things he learned was that Duo had an incredible memory. ( _Eidetic and photographic memory_ , were Duo's exact words.) Dumbledore had passed along textbooks from various courses taught at Hogwarts for Duo to self-study, and Remus had watched as the braided boy pored over them with a casual eye. It came as quite a shock when Duo recalled details from the materials, little tidbits here and there sprinkled into conversation when it became clear a point in the text had caused him to pause in consideration: where does the water come from in _aqua eructo_ and how does it differ from _aguamenti_ , if the brightness of the _lumos_ charm was dependent on intent then why is _lumos maxima_ needed, if nonverbal spellcasting is a thing then why do they need to say the words, how important is intent behind spellcasting…

Duo had essentially thrown himself into his studies. This may have had something to do with the lack of Muggle tech that Duo seemed so accustomed to using; electronics did not work in such a magically-enhanced home, as they learned when Duo had attempted to use his Muggle computer. It had been one of the few goods salvaged from his rental cottage by the other Order members who had overseen clean-up before the Aurors arrived, along with Duo's duffel of personal belongings. However, the moment Duo tried to turn his computer on, it short-circuited and began to smoke – crashing before he could even put in his password.

Remus had had to explain the difficult relationship between magic and technology, and the limitations both suffered. Duo had been none-too-pleased, muttering about _"living in the fuckin' Dark Ages,"_ as he glared at the smoking remnants of his tech. He'd been even more annoyed when Remus had put his foot down and refused to let Duo leave Grimmauld Place, but then had strangely conceded – clueing Remus in that Duo understood on some fundamental level the need for secrecy for a homegrown resistance group.

The second thing Remus learned was that Duo had a natural hand at wandless magic. This was a good thing, because any wand the boy wielded was sure to explode into cinders. He'd gone through two before Dumbledore seemed to agree that they were wasting wands on the endeavor, so now Duo would emulate the wandwork with his hands. This would often lead into the 'intent behind spellcasting' discussions, as in the case where Duo put intent behind his spells, they worked.

Another thing Remus learned was that Duo often smiled. He approached every interaction with a disarming grin, the corner of his eyes crinkled in amusement. Despite the screaming of Walburga Black's portrait, despite Sirius's infrequent spells of psychosis, despite the wariness from other Order members as they went in and out of Headquarters.

But the more Remus learned about Duo, the greater the pit in his stomach grew.

"Good morning~!" Duo sung, sauntering into the narrow kitchen. He'd taken to wearing the childhood clothes of the Black brothers, given his lack of wardrobe; he'd rolled up the cuffs of a pair of Sirius's old jeans, somehow keeping it secured around his waist with a black belt, and a black turtleneck that made him look distressingly frail.

"Good morning," Remus returned with a smile. He was laboring over the stove at the moment and so couldn't do much more than smile at the boy, turning his attention back to the bacon sizzling in the skillet. Remus found his attention often focused on cooking for the past few days, intent on following mealtimes he'd often neglected himself only a month ago. "You're up early, Duo."

Remus learned that Duo hardly slept. He stayed up late, studying or perusing the Black family library – and he was up before anyone else, either in his room or tucked into an armchair in the parlor, eyeing the fireplace or the piano without a sound.

But today, Remus had made a point of waking up early this morning just to get started on this breakfast. Remus had even set an alarm, wanting to have breakfast ready by the time Duo came downstairs. It had been somewhat disheartening to see the light on through the crack of Duo's bedroom door.

Duo had never had a full English breakfast, something Remus wanted to give the boy now that he had the time. Dumbledore, as he so often was, was right – as Duo weighed his choices, Remus should not spend their given time together either chiding Duo or ignoring him out of hand. Remus had decided to bridge the gap of trust Duo had so clearly articulated between them that first night at headquarters.

It really should have been expected, and yet it had still been a horrible shock to Remus – the idea that Duo did not trust him. Duo saw him as a stranger, and Remus knew: _Duo was right_. They were virtual strangers, only a week's worth of interactions between them under the guise of family reconstruction. Duo had grown up in an orphanage, had participated in a war Remus could not even name three significant events in, and then after all of that, Remus had come into his life expecting a family.

It was a wonder Duo had even bothered to reach out to him. Remus, only just now, really thought he had taken that reach for granted.

"An early start is a good start," Duo quipped with an easygoing grin. His eyes glanced about the room as he moved further in; it was only Remus right now, Sirius still asleep in his room and Kreacher nowhere to be found.

Another thing Remus learned was that Duo was hyper-aware of his surroundings at all times. For every room he entered, his eyes searched first for the occupants and then the exits. He did this without fail, even if he'd been in that room before or already knew who was inside.

"Oh wow, is that bacon?" Duo chirped, peering around Remus to see what he was cooking. "Haven't had that in forever. I mean, I've had bacon-flavored junk – but it's not really the same, ya know? Or so I have been told."

Duo talked a lot. He talked about books, about the weather, about the bags under Sirius's eyes or the lines between Remus's brows, about the dreary architecture of Grimmauld Place, about magic and wands, about the silliness of robes. And yet, with all his talk – Duo managed to say absolutely nothing.

Duo seemed almost careless in his interactions, but when Remus really thought about it, it was clear Duo was anything _but_ careless. Remus knew nothing about Duo: about where Duo had learned battle tactics, about Duo's life in the star colonies, about Duo's friends, about the home Duo had left behind. Not once had Duo even spoken an outright lie – and yet, somehow, Duo managed to lie anyway.

The fireplace flared to life, cutting off Duo's bacon soliloquy as Elphias Doge stepped through. It wasn't odd for Order members to come in at any hour of the day, so Remus was not particularly perturbed, but he made sure to keep himself at ease as he casually kept his position between the recently-arrived wizard and his son.

Remus pretended not to notice the knife that had disappeared from where it had laid atop the kitchen counter.

"Elphias, good morning," Remus greeted with a smile. Duo, standing tense at his shoulders, relaxed only marginally. Members came and went, but there were still arrivals that had yet to meet Remus's son, and Duo greeted these newcomers with a bright grin and wary eye.

"Ah, Remus, good to see you!" Elphias greeted brightly. "And – oh, that must be your boy?"

Duo edged around Remus at the attention, waving one hand in a friendly greeting, the other behind his back. "Yes, I would be his boy," he agreed with a wide grin. "One day, I too will have a name, and then-"

"Duo," Remus interjected in good humor. "This is Elphias Doge. Elphias, this is my son – Duo Maxwell."

"Nice to meet you, lad," Elphias said, clearly having not cottoned on to what Duo's self-introduction was leading into. Remus saw no reason to dredge it up, but at least Duo had relaxed enough that Remus didn't feel the need to be between them.

Duo preened. "I imagine I'm the highlight of your day," he mock-boasted.

Remus forcibly choked down a laugh.

Elphias only snorted at the retort. He wasn't there for long, leaving a report from his latest mission with Remus to pass onto Dumbledore. Duo didn't seem to be paying them much attention, taking a seat on the counter and watching idly as Remus finished frying up the bacon. Order members swept in and out of Headquarters, but the few that Duo caught sight of were never there for long. Duo, for his part, didn't ask questions about the members or their missions; he greeted them and initiated friendly conversation if they stayed longer than the few minutes most spared.

Duo's presence at Order headquarters had been met with bemusement. Those who had been part of the original mission to bring Duo to safety did not trust the easy friendliness in his smiles, and Remus could not blame them for that wariness. Those who met Duo for the first time never got more involved than a few cursory greetings, although they were much more amiable in their approaches. Duo did not seem particularly upset by the treatment, mostly concerned with either his studies or conversations with Remus and Sirius.

Elphias soon left, leaving Remus and Duo alone in the kitchen once more after declining staying for breakfast. Duo was still perched on the counter as Remus finished the last of the fry up and doled it out onto three separate plates: bacon, fried eggs, fried tomatoes and mushrooms, sausages, buttered toast, and baked beans.

"Coffee or orange juice?" Remus asked, wandlessly levitating the plates over to the table and casting a preservation charm over Sirius's portion.

"I'll get 'em!" Duo said, hopping off the counter. Remus silently noted the knife had reappeared back where it had originally been.

Duo prepared one mug of coffee and another of tea, the latter made just the way Remus preferred it. Remus had never told Duo how he liked his tea, which meant the boy had been observing Remus previously and remembered his preferences. It was just another little thing about Duo – he was always watching, even when they didn't seem to realize it.

It was easy to assume Duo didn't know or understand anything about what was going on around him given his Muggle upbringing – but he left the room when Order meetings started without being asked, he saw members go in and out without question, he read through the Daily Prophet and mentioned tidbits he found but never anything pertinent to the Order's function.

It was not ignorance, Remus knew that – it was _calculation_. Duo didn't say anything because he was piecing together the big picture for himself, bit by bit. Remus could not even guess how much of it Duo had already managed to figure out. For all the joviality behind his smiles, it was abundantly clear that the last thing Duo is, is simple.

Duo tore through his breakfast. Something about the boy's ravenous appetite reminded Remus of his own teenage years, and he couldn't help but find it amusing to watch. Remus now understood what Molly meant when she complained about her boys eating her out of house and home; teenage boys ate like they had been starving for days.

But then again.

Duo was indiscriminate when it came to food; nothing bothered him, and Remus had had to field an argument yesterday on whether old scones left atop the counter were still edible when they were clearly beginning to grow mold. It wasn't that Duo thought that they were perfectly acceptable to eat – it was more that the mold wasn't at a state that made the scones completely inedible.

Remus had recoiled at the implications. Duo had stopped arguing abruptly at the man's reaction, and it had been left to Sirius to change the topic even as Remus Vanished the scones.

"Duo, there's something we need to talk about," Remus began, after Duo had cleaned his plate of every last crumb.

Duo perked up. "Is it about that animated picture of the woman with the lungs of a dying cat? I didn't do anything to it," he said in a rush.

"The- You mean the portrait of Sirius's mother?" Remus asked, taken aback. "No – why, what did you do to it?" Now that Remus thought about it, he hadn't heard her in the past 24 hours…

"Nothin'," Duo replied airily.

Remus stared at him. "…what do you _plan_ on doing to it?" he asked after a thoughtful pause.

"I'd hate to ruin the surprise," Duo returned with a grin.

Remus shook his head with a wry smile; he was quickly learning to pick his battles when it came to Duo. There was no point in pressing the issue, not when Duo talked circles around him, usually using references only the braided boy understood.

"Putting that aside for now," Remus began, ignoring the way Duo's grin brightened at his concession. "I wanted to talk about… well, something about me."

"Let me guess," Duo interrupted dryly. "You're a wizard."

Remus grinned. "Funnily enough, yes," he chuckled, but quickly sobered. "But not just that…"

As a Muggle-raised youth, Duo may not have been raised with the same prejudices that wizard-born youth inherited from their culture – but Muggle entertainment also had their own prejudices. Remus was not sure where Duo's mindset was when it came to seemingly mythical creatures.

"Duo," Remus began tentatively. "What do you know about werewolves?"

Duo stared at him, face blank. There was likely some part of the boy wondering if Remus was setting up some kind of joke, but the more logical side of Duo must have realized that, with a world of magic, perhaps anything was possible. Muggle folklore regarding Remus's condition hardly painted a benign picture, at least according to what Remus knew about it.

"…during the full moon, some poor bastard turns into a wolf and runs wild?" Duo answered dubiously. His tone was casual, his expression settled somewhere between open and curious.

"Close," Remus nodded, keeping reign on his nerves. His hands trembled just slightly; it took quite a bit of strength to admit to someone his lycanthropy, especially someone Remus valued so much. "Lycanthropy is a real infectious curse, and those who live with it turn into werewolves on full moon nights. A werewolf cannot choose when they transform," he explained in neutral tones. If he treated this as a school lecture, it would be easier.

"A werewolf, though human, does not retain their human mind while in wolf-form – they are extremely dangerous and will attack any human in their vicinity," he continued. "Although once they revert back to their human form, they will be able to remember everything that happened while they were a wolf."

There was a long pause as Remus allowed Duo to digest this information. Most of it matched with werewolf folklore as Muggles understood it, so it should not come as any great shock, but Remus understood that Duo was connecting the dots for why Remus had brought up this subject in the first place.

"Right…" Duo murmured, an indication he was waiting for Remus to admit aloud what Duo clearly already expected.

Remus clasped his hands together to rest against the tabletop, hoping to conceal the trembling. "I am- I have lycanthropy," he said, voice calm and heartbeat rapid. His throat felt dry, like sandpaper growing out from his lungs. "I've had it ever since I was a child."

Another long pause. Remus's gaze had moved to the tabletop now as well, not quite willing to meet Duo's assessing eyes. Duo's fingers did not drum against the table, and Remus wondered if the fidgeting from before was a conscious decision on the teen's part. Was that normal? To give oneself habits to better blend in with the crowd?

"So… Does that mean I have it too?" Duo finally asked.

Remus's head shot up, surprised by the question. "No!" he was quick to refute, although stopped himself at the sight of Duo's wide eyes. Wrestling internally, Remus took a calming breath before continuing in a more sedate tone. "No, not unless… Have you ever transformed before?"

"Not that I know of…" Duo answered.

Remus nodded. "If you'd transformed, you would know. You- You don't have it," he breathed, not realizing it was relief that seeped into his bones at Duo's admission.

There were no recorded cases of werewolves having children while human. If two werewolves mated while in wolf form, then they may give birth to a pack of wolf cubs – as had been documented twice throughout recorded history. But in the case of Duo, who was the product of a man with lycanthropy and a Muggle woman, there were no similar cases.

But if Duo had never turned, then that must mean he was free of the curse that plagued Remus. Remus could thank every higher power for that, at the very least.

"So you turn into a werewolf on the full moon?" Duo asked.

Remus nodded. "Yes. I'll be gone the night after tomorrow because of this," he explained. Sirius had wanted to come with Remus to keep him company, but Sirius was not supposed to leave Grimmauld, and especially not leave Duo alone in the home unsupervised. The dog animagus had sullenly agreed to stay and keep an eye on Duo, although Remus privately thought that it was Duo who would be keeping an eye on Sirius.

"Huh," Duo mused, although it sounded more like he was speaking to himself. "That could have been fun on the lunar base."

Remus blinked. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well, it's not like the moon is ever really gone. It's always full, technically," Duo said. "So what do you think happens when a werewolf is actually _on_ the moon?"

Remus's brows furrowed. "I… I don't know…"

"Oh my god, I could have turned into a wolf," Duo blurted out. His tone, to Remus's shock, sounded absolutely _delighted_. "Bet that would have thrown OZ for a fuckin' loop."

Duo paused. "Wait, so how do you make more werewolves?" he asked.

Remus distinctly felt like he'd lost control of the conversation. "Bites," he answered automatically. "If someone survives a werewolf bite, they'll be infected with lycanthropy."

Remus frowned. "Duo, it's not a joke. Lycanthropy is… it's _awful_ ," he tried to impress upon the boy. "When I'm a wolf, I'm nothing more than a killer."

Duo didn't say anything for another long moment, leaning back in his seat and giving Remus a thoughtful look. His expression was considering, but then, his lips finally curled into a small smile that looked almost painful – taking the breath from Remus's lungs at the very sight.

Duo stood, picking up their empty plates and turning away without a word.

He didn't need to say anything; Remus understood.

Duo had inherited something from Remus: not the lycanthropy, but some part of the wolf had succeeded where Remus had failed.

* * *

_AC 196 July 24_

_North Yorkshire, England  
_

There was a heatwave throughout England, one that made skin sticky and the air full of pollen to bring those suffering their seasonal hay fever to the brink of madness. North Yorkshire was much the same, but unlike the smog and roving populace that crowded London's streets, the cobbled roads of Remus Lupin's humble home were sparsely populated.

There'd be an occasional neighbor ambling past, giving the three men in Preventers uniforms a curious eye but recognizing authority even in such young faces. They quickly moved past, even as the three stood before the weathered white fence that sectioned off their current lead's plot of land.

It was a small and ugly thing, Heero thought. The thought was inherently uncharitable, but also true: Remus Lupin's cottage was more a glorified shack, held together with stone and age. The grass between the road and sidewalk was overgrown, a marker of neglect rather than personality, and some of the windows were dusted with disuse. There was no car, and likewise no driveway. The entire cottage showed no signs of life.

Wufei lead the way up the sidewalk to the front door, but Trowa and Heero soon diverged to either side in order to circle around the home. The backyard was as empty and overgrown as the front, the walls low enough that they could see into neighboring yards. No privacy, and again, no sounds of life. The air was silent, even with their muted steps over the growth, and Heero heard the faint sound of Wufei's knocking on the door only after he and Trowa had locked eyes after surveying Lupin's empty yard.

They returned back to the front, where Wufei's knocking had gone ignored. It took only a quick glance between them to confirm: no signs of life within the cottage. Either Lupin was not home, or he was doing his damnedest to pretend he wasn't.

There was a moment, unstated between them, when they realized that their next course of action treaded that fine line.

Peace came with a cost.

They were no longer terrorists, no longer soldiers bound by a mission that trumped the laws of the land they stepped over. They were agents for an organization that knew exactly what they were capable of, and they were restricted by those very same laws that they had broken freely in the past.

But still.

_Duo Maxwell was missing._

Wufei turned back to the door, contemplating the handle. Heero knew he was gauging what would be better: lockpick or one hard kick? Heero was about to answer that for him – _kick_ – but then Trowa moved forward, casual grace to his movements as he turned to fully face the door, his two companions stepping back in full trust.

A yellowed ball of fur sprung from Trowa's jacket pocket, Heero catching sight of those same reptilian eyes, but they were now set in a fearfully skeletal feline face. The creature made no sound, even as it landed on deft paws on the cottage doorstep, and then not so much crept as _crawled_ forward. Heero could see the full length of its body now: it was no bigger than a pineapple, from head to tail, but it seemed grotesquely malformed. Its legs were crooked, too short for its elongated body, angled so that it skittered akin more to a spider than a cat. Its tail was as long as Heero's thumb, tufted at the end, only it seemed more like a wisp of smoke than a curl of fur. The creature moved forward and butted its head against the door of Lupin's cottage, paused, and then _phased_ through it.

Wufei said nothing. Heero said nothing. Trowa, of course, said nothing. Then there was a small crash from the inside, as if a piece of dishware had fallen from a moderate height. No other sound was forthcoming.

"Could be sounds of distress," Trowa noted aloud mildly. "We'll need to check it out."

Trowa hadn't even finished speaking before Heero kicked forward and broke the door open, allowing them entrance inside.

It really was a glorified shack. Only a simple door separated what seemed to be the living area – a kitchen, dining room, and bedroom all rolled up in one – from a darkened bathroom. There were no modern appliances aside from a single landline rotary phone, one so absurdly outdated that Heero genuinely wondered if Lupin was collecting antiques. The flooring itself was dusty, uneven stones interspersed with ratty rugs. The only possible source of heat was the hearth, where a single black cauldron was left abandoned.

Trowa's creature was curled up atop a brown cabinet where a small assortment of dishware was stored, the shattered remains of a dinner plate on the floor beneath it. There was no other living thing in the cottage.

"Barton," Wufei began, calm in tone. He was looking into the reptilian eyes of Trowa's pet, which were staring unblinkingly in their direction. "What is that."

"It's a cat," Heero answered Wufei's question-turned-statement, prowling about the room as the other two did the same. Trowa collected his cat from the cabinet, allowing it to nestle once more into his jacket pocket. Wufei watched him with a fleeting glance but, like Heero, decided it better to let sleeping dogs (or in this case, demonic felines) lie.

It was the table that yielded the only clues worth examining. It was strewn with papers, junk mail flyers and assorted tourist pamphlets mostly, but it was the parchment that caught Heero's eyes, an itinerary written in an unfamiliar but neat scrawl. Some destinations had been crossed out – clearly having been completed, save the last two – but it was the address scripted neatly near the top that drew Heero's attention, so different from the lists of eateries and tourist traps beneath it.

_Ironworkers Barn Guest Houses._

Remus Lupin would have no need to utilize a guest house, not unless he had company over.

Heero took out his phone and dialed the phone number carefully penned under the address. Wufei and Trowa had already come to his side, eyes roving over presumably Lupin's scrawled notes with silent caution. Wufei had taken out his phone as well, and from Heero's angle, the former Wing pilot could see his friend opening up his phone's browser to do a quick internet search.

" _We're sorry, the phone number you are-"_

Heero hung up before the automated message could finish. "A dead line," he reported to the other two.

"I can see why," Wufei said a moment later, eyes reading over a news article he'd pulled up on his phone screen. "The owners were reported missing five days ago. The establishment has been shut down in the meanwhile."

_Five days ago_. It fit, in the most horrible way.

They piled back into their rental car in tense silence. It wasn't Preventers-issued, as their self-imposed mission was still considered personal. Wufei took over driving once again – judging Heero to be unfit for personal reasons, and now deeming Trowa equally unfit for animal-related reasons.

Heero watched Lupin's cottage shrink into the distance. He'd thought, at first sight, that Duo would have hated it; for all his eccentricities, Duo preferred a home with more structure. An English cottage that belonged in some bygone era would have amused the braided pilot, but it would not be something he'd ever pick for himself.

And no TV? No place to charge his laptop, or hook up any of his inane antiquated game systems he'd been salvaging for fun? There was no space to work in Lupin's cottage, no place to expand. Duo craved space, craved the possibility of growth that he'd bee denied for so very much of his life.

Lupin hadn't even bothered to get an extra cot.

Nothing about Yorkshire would appeal to Duo. Duo needed to be surrounded by life, by a city crowd he could blend into when the world felt like too much to handle, when the only thing saving him from his own mind was seeing people living their lives, no longer under the threat of war. Here, in untouched Yorkshire, Duo would have gone mad with the tranquility.

Duo's last moments could not be here.

Of course, Duo was not dead – because if he had passed, Quatre would know. Heero _knew_ that.

But he also knew that there were many kinds of death.

Ironworkers Barn Guest Houses were a 40-minute drive from Lupin's place, set in a more remote location that afforded both luxury and privacy. The dirt road leading up to the establishment had been gated closed, likely by the local police force; Trowa had made quick work of the padlock, and then did the same for the front entrance.

The entrance itself was the home of the owners, a small home utilized for business. The front desk was humble but comfortable, pastel yellow couches crowded into a room shared with a paneled desk area where a desktop and piles of papers were collected. The elderly couple that had managed the place before their disappearance seemed to have updated their systems to electronic, but they also kept written records – a common trait among their generation.

The police report had noted nothing strange about the establishment in their notes. The couple's vehicle remained in its driveway, their belongings in their home, even their cellphones on their bedside drawers – but the couple was nowhere to be found, as if they'd been ghosted away.

Heero booted up the computer, relieved that the electricity had yet to be shut off, as Wufei and Trowa combed through the records.

"They haven't had a guest since last month," Wufei spoke up, flipping from one page in the roster to the next. "No guests are accounted for this month."

"The keys are all present as well," Trowa stated, standing before the wall of guest house keys – all eight were traditional, not a single card key in sight.

The police report had mentioned the same thing. There were no guests to be found on the premises, and none expected for the whole month of July. B&B places such as Ironworkers Barn could have walk-ins, but the police report stated there was none – now confirmed by the papers Wufei held.

Heero's attention went back to the computer. He'd verify the guest accounts, and then later, cross-section examine them with the local police's reports on the currently open missing persons files for the establishment's owners. If Lupin never returned to his cottage, this was their only lead.

It was quick work to break through the computer's security system, and Heero pulled up the guest check-in file without hassle. His pause, however, garnered his friends' attentions, and then he had two shadows over his shoulders as he clicked open the only active guest account.

_**[Customer #B625-3E]** _

_**Name: [L/N, F/N] Maxwell, Duo** _

_**Passport:** _ _**#L28-XD2** _

_**Payment: Credit Card – Online. Accepted.** _

_**Duration: 10 July 196 – 20 July 196** _

_**Occupants: 1** _

_**Guest House: Guest Cottage 3.** _

Wufei's words were mild; his eyes were not. "Either they forgot to write down a guest they'd received for several days, or someone forged the last page of their written accounts," he mused.

"But why tamper with only the paper files?" Trowa returned.

Heero closed the computer. If needed, they could come back to it later – but for now, they needed to examine Duo's assigned accommodation. Trowa grabbed the keys designated for their next destination.

Wufei continued speaking, even as they moved as one in the direction of Guest Cottage 3. "They forge papers, they possibly abduct Maxwell-" Heero couldn't help the scowl that twisted his lips at that. "-but they can't break into a B&B's laughable attempt at computer security?"

It was an oddity. Forging papers took time, or it at least took more time then breaking into the establishment's electronic accounts.

"The owners could have forgotten to write it down," Trowa said, playing devil's advocate.

"The keys," Wufei pointed out. "They would not be at the front desk if they had a guest."

"They could be back-up keys," Trowa refuted.

"The police report never mentioned a missing guest," Heero interjected suddenly. "The electronic accounts would have been one of the first things they'd looked at. But they didn't."

Why? Police investigations could be shabby, and in such a small place like this, Heero wouldn't have expected anything stellar – but even the basics of investigation would have demanded looking at the guest lists. Had the police truly never bothered?

Guest House 3 was a simple refurbished barn. It was airy and modernized, aside from the outdated lock, but it sported a flat-screen TV and several electrical outlets, along with a simple kitchen. It was neat and orderly, an extremely light layer of dust settled over the otherwise tidy interior. It really was as if nobody had been here within the last week.

Wufei went up the stairs to check out the loft bedroom area, as Trowa moved to the kitchen and Heero padded into the living area. Nothing looked out of place: the furniture showed no signs of distress, the walls and floors were unmarked, and there was not one suspicious stain on anything. If anything had happened in the guest house, then whoever had cleaned it up was a master at home remodeling.

Heero's eyes skimmed over the magazines and newspapers laid out in an aesthetically-pleasing manner across the coffee table. He stopped on the newspaper, wedged between a fashion magazine and a country living mag; the date stamped neatly into the corner is what immediately jumped out to him.

_**AC 196 July 12** _ **.**

Heero doubted the establishment's owners would be meticulous enough to deliver up-to-date newspapers to empty guest houses.

"He was here."

Heero believed that – honestly, truly believed that – but it was the fact that it was _Trowa_ saying it that earned his attention. Wufei came down the short flight of stairs at the declaration, but there was no doubt in his expression either.

Even if there had been, it would have been gone the moment Trowa held up what he'd pulled out from one of the kitchen drawers.

Heero didn't need to pull out one of the blades he kept strapped to his calf to know it was nearly identical. They had been a gift from Catherine Bloom, both thoughtful and somewhat of a gag: matching pair blades, almost identical in weight and design. It had been a couple's gift – Duo had been ecstatic – but they were well-made, and the design was simple: Heero's inscribed with simple _'1's_ on the butt of the handles, Duo's with _'2's._

Trowa flipped the blade, handle held out to Heero as he drew closer. A simple _'2',_ right there on the handle.

Duo would never have thrown a personalized gift away.

"They were able to subdue Maxwell," Wufei mused lowly. Heero nodded – if Duo had gone willingly, there would be no personalized blade left behind; Duo would have taken it with him, and would definitely have been able to conceal his own presence much better than whoever had been in charge of clean up. But if he'd been forcibly taken, then it was possible the blade had been left behind and mistaken as part of the guest house's cutlery.

An impeccable clean-up, but an impersonal one. The premises were clean of anything suspicious, but they'd left behind such obvious clues about Duo's presence. They tamper with paper files, but not electronic ones. Someone able to subdue a Gundam Pilot, and yet somehow not know that if they'd taken one Gundam Pilot, then the others would soon be on their trail.

"Lupin's records are spotty," Wufei suddenly spoke. "Almost as if he's spent most of his life off the grid. His home is archaic. Nothing electronic, aside from a radio and a rotary phone."

Wufei looked up and met Heero's eyes.

It took a lot to catch Duo unaware. In a remote barn in the British countryside, he'd be cautious of any approach. Duo was friendly, but he was not naïve; he'd never trust someone he'd just met, never put himself in a vulnerable position even if their blood claimed them as relation.

There was a cauldron in Remus Lupin's hearth.

"Wizards cannot use most technology," Heero stated.

_Magic_. That would definitely catch Duo by surprise.

* * *

  **End Chapter 7**

* * *

  **A/N** : Heero is getting angrier by the chapter… And Trowa's really just carrying around some small Eldritch abomination, but his friends now just know better than to pry.

_Note 1: Breaking into Lupin's Cottage_

\--I think Remus would definitely have used Muggle-repelling charms on his personal abode, as well as anti-apparition wards - but clearly, the Gundam boys are neither Muggles nor apparating in.

\--Trowa used his cat as an excuse to break in. _"Could be sounds of distress"_ would be there excuse as to why they broke in, if they're ever asked.

_Note 2: Werewolves_

\--The werewolf lecture Remus gave was largely pulled from the HP wiki, including the bits about the children of werewolves. Apparently Teddy Lupin was the only recorded (thus known) case of a child being born from one parent with lycanthropy. Basically, I'm going to use my Creative License~

_Please be kind and **drop a comment and kudos! :)**_


End file.
